When Extended Family is Discovered
by Athey
Summary: Slow-paced Veela-fic AU HPDM. Summer after 2nd year Harry meets his mothers real father, and it turns out that he's not a muggle at all. Meeting a family he didn't know existed, keeping secrets, and now Draco Malfoy is acting very odd. slash Dumbl!bashing Probably DISCONTINUED
1. When Worlds Get Turned Upside Down

My original inspiration for writing this fic came to me while reading Desperate Measures by vvc. It's a really fantastic (if quite a bit different than I expected) Veela fic that is also a Harry x Draco pairing.

Fanfiction . net / s / 4228464 / 1 /

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Also - since it seems to be a common concern by anyone who comes here to read the fic, I'll nip a few concerns in the bud right here -

1. This fic has no sub/dom roles in it.

2. This fic has no mpreg.

3. This fic does not have one of those moments where they suddenly realize they're destined mates, and all of a sudden go totally out of character and jump into bed with each other.

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**Title**: When Extended Family is Discovered

**Rating**: T

**Keywords**: slash, pre-slash, veela, drarry, creature!Harry, veela!Harry, mild Ron!bashing, AU

**Spoilers**: Story starts at the very end of Chamber, loosely follows Prisoner of Azkaban, get's more and more AU as it goes. Horcruxes exist – all cannon still exists here, although I'm sliding in a teeny bit into movie-cannon with Harry being able to sense the horcruxes when near them. Of course, there's a bunch of AU stuff, stuffed in there to mix things up a bit.

**Summary**: Slow-paced Veela-fic HPDM. Summer after second-year Harry meets his mother's real father, and it turns out that he's not a muggle at all. With getting to know a whole branch of family he didn't know existed, and keeping his new discoveries a secret, could his world possibly get anymore turned on it's head? How about if Draco Malfoy started acting rather odd, as well?

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**Author's Note: ** The story starts when Harry is 12, but works its way through the summer and Harry's 3rd year fairly quickly. Drarry romance doesn't start until around page 300-ish, so don't expect that for a good long while!

Each chapter is between 25 – 35 pages long, so these are very long chapters.

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Chapter 1 – When Worlds Get Turned Upside-Down

Harry woke feeling tired, and very very sore. He blinked owlishly up at the canopy of his bed for several minutes, just trying to sort through his muddled thoughts. He shifted in bed and winced at the throb of discomfort he felt in his arm. His opposite hand moved up and he ran his fingers gently over his newest disfiguring scar.

The place where the basilisk's fang had pierced his arm now featured a perfectly round mark of raised, reddened, and slightly lumpy scar tissue. He knew that it could have been a lot worse, and he couldn't honestly expect for there to be nothing left behind at all – even with Fawkes' tears – still, he hadn't really expected it to still hurt.

Although, his arm was hardly the only place that ached. He ached all over. All of the running and dodging, and assorted excess of physical exertion that had been necessary while fighting an enormous _basilisk_... well, he had come out fairly good, all things considered. A few bruises, he could manage. The emotional scars were still a bit touchy though. The similarities between he and Tom Riddle still disturbed him, tremendously. When he'd asked Dumbledore why he thought Harry could speak to snakes, the headmaster had suggested that Voldemort had transferred some of his power to Harry when he tried to kill him as a baby.

That thought was... disturbing. Very disturbing. And it gave him a headache, so he generally tried not to think about it at all.

He didn't need a headache – or emotional turmoil – in addition to the aches and pains associated with his recovery from the disaster in the Chamber.

Not that his aches and pains mattered. It was only a dull ache, and he had suffered with dull aches for years. The Dursley's had often caused various injuries to him, and nearly never allowed him to seek any legitimate medical treatment. Even for the bad ones, like all those times he shoulder or elbow had been dislocated because Uncle Vernon had yanked on him too roughly.

Thinking about the Dursley's brought on a wave of despair, knowing that he would be returning to them in only a few days. He _didn't want to go back._ No matter how stressful his year had been – what with the Chamber being opened, and his ability to speak to snakes revealed and _feared_ by the population as a whole – it was still a thousand times better than the idea of going back to the Dursley's.

Harry dwelled on that thought for the majority of the rest of the day. Ron, Ginny, the Twins, and Percy were all, already gone. Their parents had taken them all home early the previous night. Exams were done, so there really was no reason not to.

Harry yearned desperately for a family that would worry about him when something awful happened to him. A family that would be so distraught about his disappearance, or possible death, that they would drop everything and rush to the school to make sure he was found, or that he was alright. If the Dursley's had even been _notified_ that he was in danger or possibly hurt, they would be more likely to rejoice and start wishing and hoping for his demise, than to actually _worry _or come to his aid.

The Dursley's _hated _him. He knew that. It was a fact – a reality of his world. It wouldn't change. He'd given up, years ago, on any hope of ever changing their mind, just like he'd outgrown the childish fantasies that a distant relative would pop up out of no where to rescue him from them. One that might actually love him, unlike his miserably relatives and their undying loathing of his very existence.

It was with this in mind that Harry found himself nervously standing in front of the Gargoyle to the headmaster's office again, that evening.

What followed didn't take all that long, and progressed about as well as he'd expected it too. Like the year before, Harry asked Headmaster Dumbledore if there was any way for him to stay at Hogwarts over the summer holidays, instead of going back to his relatives. And just like the year prior, Dumbledore once again, refused his request.

It was _imperative_ that Harry return to the Dursley's, he had said. The Dursley's home was protected by powerful wards that were tied to Harry's blood; his mother's sacrifice; and his only living biological relations: Petunia Dursley, and her son Dudley.

If Harry didn't go back, the wards would begin to deteriorate, and if they ever fell, then Harry could never return there again, and it was a safety that Harry would likely need someday.

Dumbledore had been gentle and calmly reassuring while being firm and insistent that he was right, and Harry should realize that too – after all, if the wards fell, it wasn't just Harry who would be vulnerable, but also his family, and Harry wouldn't want to be responsible for risking the lives of someone else, would he?

Harry had gone cold and mostly unresponsive, besides small mumbled noises and nods of his head, less than halfway through the whole conversion, and by the end, he was keeping his expression as solid as stone, so as to not openly show just how upset he felt.

Honestly? He was to the point where he didn't give a damn if the Dursley's were in danger if he up and vanished, and if the wards fell, then _he would never have to go back_. He saw that as _a good thing._

Sure, he didn't have anywhere else to go... but maybe the Weasley's would take him in for a month, or maybe he could even rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron or something.

_Something._

Anything was better than going back to the place where he was loathed more than a bug and treated like the Dursley's personal servant.

He left the Headmaster's office torn between fuming, and feeling utterly dejected and hopeless. But he saw no other choice. He had to go back.

–

Harry watched as Hermione waved goodbye and raced down the platform towards here happily smiling parents. His eyes lingered on innumerable other happy faces in the throngs of people greeting their children with hugs and smiles. Even _the Malfoys_ looked upon their stuck-up prat of a son with warmth in their eyes, even if they were too dignified to do anything like _hug_ in a public place like Kings Cross station.

With a miserable sigh of defeat Harry searched out and located the Dursley's, who looked as if they were about to go into apoplectic shock if they had to remain among these _freaks_ for one more minute.

The car ride back to Little Whinging was silent with a thickly heavy atmosphere. Shortly before arriving at Privet Drive, Uncle Vernon informed Harry that Aunt Marge would be visiting at the end of July. Harry felt his very veins freeze with dread at the prospect of spending anytime with Aunt Marge at all.

Upon arriving at the house, Harry's trunk and all of his things, including his wand, were promptly taken from him and locked in the cupboard under the stairs. Harry was then sent to his room with Hedwig's cage and told to pretend he didn't exist until morning.

The weekend passed as miserably as he ever expected at the Dursley home. He'd been woken by his aunts angry and impatient shrieking, and then been expected to fix breakfast for the lot of them, and then be _grateful_ for the few, cold, left overs. He'd been worked to the brink of heat exhaustion in the yard tending to his Aunt Petunia's neglected garden, and cleaning out the shed.

Monday morning started much the same – the advantage now, however, was that it was a weekday, and as soon as Uncle Vernon was done with his breakfast, he left for work. Dudley was equally uninterested in spending the summer day indoors, and left to go visit one of his local minions – which one, Harry didn't know or care, so long as he didn't have to interact – or run away from – them, he was fine.

His Aunt Petunia set him to chores around the house rather quickly and Harry silently obeyed. She had him washing the windows some hours later. His stomach was growling something fierce and he was trying his best to ignore the unpleasant sensation of being _hungry._ He'd gotten used to it in his younger years, but ten months at Hogwarts with regular, hearty meals, had increased the size of his stomach and gotten him out of the habit of eating next to nothing, and hording food.

He knew the next few weeks would be the worst, until he could get somewhat accustomed to his next-to-nothing diet again. Ron had promised the send food though... hopefully something would come soon.

Movement outside caught his attention and he slowed in his circular cleaning motions to observe a rather curious-looking older gentleman walking down Privet Drive and coming to a stop in front of the Dursley's house.

He was wearing a rather fine looking suit, although, it looked about a decade or two out of style. It was dark brown tweed, with a jacket and a matching vest beneath that, featuring tiny pearl buttons lining down the center. He was also wearing a bow tie, in dark green, over a white collared shirt. The man had shining auburn-colored hair, worn long and tied back into a low ponytail. He was also what one would probably consider very handsome and stately in his appearance.

Harry was about to dismiss the man and go back to his work when his breath suddenly caught in his chest. The man puled out a _wand_.

He glanced around at the neighbors cautiously before making several swishing gestures and apparently muttering quietly under his breath. Nothing seemed to have happened, although the man's eyes were focused on something seemingly invisible right in front of him, and he looked quite intent upon whatever he was seeing. Then he nodded his head, made another swish of his wand, as if brushing something away, and began to walk down the short path to the Dursley's front door.

Harry stood back from the window feeling a weird mix between wariness and excitement. He quickly and quietly made his way towards the door to the sitting room, that connected to the entry hall and waited. The bell rang and Harry was torn between answering the door and facing his aunt's wrath, or just letting her get it.

His decision was made for him when Aunt Petunia bustled into the hall from the kitchen, muttering beneath her breath. She pulled the door open and Harry leaned as close to the half-open door as he could without risking being noticed.

"Good morning, Petunia," A deep voice spoke lightly.

Harry heard as his aunt Petunia sucked in a sharp breath of shock, followed almost instantly with the words, _"YOU!_"

"Ah, how nice to see you remember me," the man replied, and Harry could hear the amusement in his voice.

"You're supposed to be dead!" she shrieked.

"Am I now?" the man asked contemptuously. "And what would make you think that?"

"That... that, _freak_ headmaster, said so!" she exclaimed, but her voice, starting out high and frantic, but taking an instant dip lower after the word '_freak'_ was uttered and then coming out as an accusing hiss. "He said you were dead! I told him, I didn't want the boy! I _told him!_ I told the man to give him to _you!_ But he said you were dead!"

"Is that so?" the man replied in slow, clipped words. His voice was even deeper now, and colder. The amusement was completely gone, and replaced with something that sent a cold shiver down Harry's spine. His heart was racing now, he had no idea what the meaning of this was, but there was no doubt at all it was about him. "Well then it would appear that Dumbledore lied to the both of us. I am here for Harry. Where is he?"

There was a silent pause followed by his Aunt Petunia making some sort of frustrated noise before gesturing the man inside and closing the door. _"Boy!"_ she yelled out a moment later and Harry jumped before rushing forward and pulling the sitting room door all the way open.

His aunt twisted up a disgusted looking grimace as she saw him, but that was really nothing new. She then looked over at the man, looking equally disgusted to have him in her preciously perfect home.

"Does this mean you're taking him away?" she asked sharply.

"If he'll have me. I intend to make the offer," the man said, not bothering to look at Petunia, as his eyes were locked instead on Harry's.

"I don't give a damn if he'll have you or not. If you're alive then he's _your_ responsibility. We want nothing to do with his freakishness! With _either_ of your freakishness!" she spat angrily.

The man turned his head and sneered at her, quailing her indignation slightly – only _slightly_. She huffed and turned to storm back to the kitchen, not bothering to say anything else.

The man turned his gaze back to Harry as soon as she was gone and his face instantly softened. Harry's mind was in a whirlwind of shock and denial. The hope was bursting to come out, but he was terrified to let it. He couldn't stand to let himself _hope_, only to have it squashed, yet again. And he still had no idea what was going on. He needed more information.

"Who... who are you?" Harry asked hesitantly. The man's eyes softened even further, and his expression was one of sadness mixed with warmth. It was an expression Harry didn't often have aimed at him. Harry was startled suddenly to notice the man's shining green eyes. They were... very _familiar_.

"My name is Lucas Conseil... and I am your grandfather."

Harry gaped for several beats before snapping his mouth shut and swallowing thickly. "But... but how is that possible? I thought..." Harry turned his head to look back towards the kitchen door, feeling utterly bewildered.

"It's a lot to explain and it will likely take us a while to cover everything important. Perhaps we could find somewhere to sit?"

Harry nodded dumbly and led the man back into the sitting room. The two sat down, diagonally from each other, Harry on the edge of the couch, and Lucas on an armchair.

Lucas looked thoughtful for a moment before looking back up and meeting Harry's eyes. "Your mother, Lily, and your Aunt Petunia, are only _half-_sisters. They share the same mother, however, they do not have the same fathers."

Harry's eyes widened with a sense of shock mingled with hesitant hope. "_Half?_" Harry whispered.

"Yes." Lucas cleared his throat looking a bit uncomfortable for a moment before resuming. "Your Grandmother, Rosie Evans, was 19 years old when she became pregnant with her first child, Petunia. Her husband, Paul, was a member of the Royal Army, and shortly after Petunia was born, he was called to Germany to serve in some capacity there for about a year and a half with only a few scattered visits home. During that time, Rosie moved back in with her mother in London so that she would have some help with her infant daughter.

"It was during that time, in 1959, that I was working in London as a diplomatic representative between the Veela Nation, the French Ministry, and the British Ministry of Magic. I was placed in a flat in Muggle London which just happened to be in the same building as Rosie and her mother. I will admit that before that time, I had never really had the opportunity to interact with muggles much, and I was rather curious. I met Rosie while there. She was very kind, but also obviously quite sad. I was rather young myself at the time, and I do not claim to have had the best of judgement. I will not make excuses however. I knew she was married, and yet that did not stay my hand when I seduced her.

"A month before my work in London ended, her husband came back, and she told me that she couldn't see me any longer. She would remain faithful to her husband, and should have never strayed in the first place. I knew I caused her a great deal of guilt, and I did despise myself for a very long time for that. When I left, she asked that I never again contact her, and I would have kept my word except for one thing. Namely, if she had become pregnant – which she did.

"I found out by my mother, actually," Lucas laughed and shrugged. "My family has a very old, and very powerfully enchanted self-updating family book. There are those that refuse to acknowledge children sired out of wedlock, but my family has never followed such practices, so the spells upon our family book added Lily's name as soon as she was born. Even so, we did not check the book regularly, so I did not learn of Lily's existence until she was four. That was when my mother checked the book and had herself a small heart attack before coming to screech my head off for nearly an hour before she calmed down enough to yell at me in a corheirant enough fashion for me to finally figure out what had happened."

"She must have been awfully angry. Was it because you had a child with a muggle, or just because you weren't married?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Oh she didn't care if it was a muggle – not _really._ She didn't even care that we weren't married – although she was _quite_ displeased when I informed her that Rosie had been married during our tryst. No, she was mad because I had allowed a child of my family to go unacknowledged by the line for so many years. Family is of great importance to us, after all.

"So I traveled back to England and approached Rosie about our daughter. She was... well, _not pleased_ to see me. Her husband was under the impression that the child was his, and Rosie wanted to keep it that way. She didn't want to risk her happy marriage over a mistake she made when she was young and miserable. I could understand her desires, but I still wanted to know my daughter. Rosie refused. I was persistent, and she finally agreed to send me regular information on Lily. Pictures, and letters detailing her life and her school work.

"I also informed Rosie then, about my magical heritage, which I had kept hidden from her when we first had our little affair. She was shocked to say the least, but I needed to tell her so that she would be better prepared should Lily show signs of being magical, and I told her that I would come to visit again during the spring after Lily had turned eleven."

Lucas paused at this point for a moment, as if he were considering how to proceed next. Harry took the moment to force himself to breath.

"There is something else you need to know Harry... I am not _technically_ a wizard."

Harry frowned. "Wait... huh? But I saw you use a wand out on the walk."

Lucas rose his brows slightly and grinned. "Saw that, did you?" he chuckled. "Yes, well, I'm still perfectly capable of performing wizard's magic, and was taught in it as a boy, however, both the British and French magical ministries are of the opinion that I am a 'Being' and not a 'Wizard' because I am a Veela."

"What's a Veela?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Veela are a race of semi-human magical beings. We are one of the highest level of the Nymph races with intelligence and sentience on an equal level with humans, although there are those that would disagree out of sheer pig-headedness and bigotry," he said with a mild sneer. "Veela are most commonly known among wizard-kind for their unnatural beauty, and the Allure, a magical trait that all Veela develop around puberty. There is a lot of misunderstanding and just plain misinformation in regards to Veela as a species – there are even some that believe there are no male Veela at all; that Veela are a race of magically beautiful women out to lure away husbands with the offer of sexual favors, only to then devour them instead." He snorted and rolled his eyes. "How they expect a species of only females to breed is beyond me."

Harry's eyes were wide as galleons but the corner of his mouth turned up slightly in amusement.

"You must understand one thing about Veela," Lucas continued, "we are shifters. We have a humanoid form, and in modern day it has become standard practice to exist primarily in our humanoid form, however we also have an avian form."

"Avian?" Harry echoed the word, not entirely sure what it meant. He was fairly sure it had something to do with birds, but that didn't quite make sense.

"Yes. Veela are partially Accipitriformes – our avian forms are still humanoid, however our skeletal structure shifts quite drastically in the transformations, and our head specifically transform a great deal. Talons, feathers, beaks... it's quite drastic, I suppose, but from my point of view, it can also be quite beautiful... however I haven't encountered many wizards who would agree," he chuckled and shrugged. "I can demonstrate it for you at a later time, however I'm not entirely comfortable doing it in a muggle neighborhood. I hope you understand."

Harry nodded mutely, not even knowing what to think about all that.

"Veela are compatible with magical humans, and we have cross-bred for thousands of years. My fraternal grandfather was a pureblood wizard, however the rest of my family are all mostly Veela – however I would hardly claim that my entire line is made up entirely of Veela because I know for a fact that as one continues to work their way up my family tree, they would encounter numerous witches and wizards. We have interbred for generations.

"The thing is that I had never heard of a veela being able to impregnate a _muggle_ before, which I admit is one of the reasons that I never would have worried about your grandmother becoming pregnant. I had believed it to be impossible. My guess would actually be that she was a squib. I suspected at one point that she might have been an untrained which, but when I did a test, it came up negative." Lucas paused and shrugged again.

"Well, I suppose I should move on with my story. You see, it's important to realize that if Lily did end up being magical, she would likely also have inherited my Veela heritage, and not just my magic. As I suspected, I was right. This was why I was so adament with Rosie that she allow me to meet and speak with Lily, the summer before she left for Hogwarts. However Rosie refused me again. She insisted that there was no guarantee that she would show any signs of being Veela at all. Muggleborn was a known phenomenon and she could convince her husband that Lily was simply a muggleborn witch and that was simple. However, Lily being a Veela could not be explained such a way, and would only prove for a fact that Rosie had been unfaithful.

"I conceded for the time, but made plans to contact Lily on my own before she turned fourteen because it would be imperative that she know of her heritage before she began to experience the more significant changes. She would need to be prepared, and no matter how guilty I felt towards Rosie's situation with her husband, I would not leave my daughter without proper preparation for such an important time in her life."

Harry frowned in confusion now. "What changes?" he asked curiously.

"Well, basically, its _puberty_. It is a time of magical maturation for Veela, and it is when the Allure first begins to develop."

"What's the Allure?"

Lucas sighed and ran a hair over his auburn-colored hair. Harry noticed that it was actually graying a bit by the man's ears, but mostly it was still quite brightly red. Harry recognized that red from the photos of his mum in the photo album Hagrid had put together for him the previous year.

Lucas cleared his throat and glanced at Harry hesitantly. "You're... twelve?"

"I turn thirteen next month," Harry said.

"Yes, well, you're certainly old enough. You've lived in a dorm with other boys, so no doubt you've heard all sorts of stories. Veela have a natural ability to attract people to them with a power called the Allure. It... it makes people sexually _aroused_, and strongly attracted to you, when it is active. They will totally and utterly submit themselves to your whims at the hope of even the slightest attention from you. Some people become blubbering fools, desperate for the slightest sign that they have pleased you. I will admit that in the days of old, Veela used the skill to lure in victims and then... eat them. So, I suppose the myths are not all that unfounded, it's just that it has been many thousands of years since it was a common occurrence for Veela to eat _humans_. We are simply too alike. It's unnerving to consider such an act." Lucas shuddered slightly before giving Harry a hesitant glance.

Harry was looking utterly stunned. He swallowed and began to speak, but his voice cracked, so he cleared it before trying again. "So... Veela have a power to make people _attracted_ to them, and it starts up at puberty?"

"Around the age of fifteen or sixteen, yes," Lucas said with a nod. "Sometimes even fourteen, but it's uncommon. It is important that a young Veela be prepared and get proper training so that they can control the Allure and turn it off. Once it starts to manifest, it's _on_ by default. This can lead to some very troublesome situations, and has led to the sexual assault on young Veela girls by wizards and the sort. Of course, the wizard governments don't acknowledge the assault. They are far more quick to blame the victim, insisting that it was the Veela's fault for being so _alluring_, and _forcing_ the wizard to rape them. It's disgusting and has been an ongoing source of contention between the Veela Nation and the wizarding governments for centuries."

Harry nodded numbly, not entirely sure what to make of the whole thing, but if the girls couldn't control it, they could hardly be blamed. And to be _raped_... he shuddered. How awful.

Lucas sighed again. "Well, back to the story... when Lily got her Hogwarts acceptance letter, Rosie pretended to be surprised. Paul was actually thrilled with the discovery of the magical world, although apparently Lily wasn't very surprised at all. Some years earlier she had made friends with a boy who lived near them that was a halfblood. He had witnessed her performing accidental magic at some point and had told her she was a witch.

"It all looked as if it were going to go smoothly, however they came to the realization that they couldn't quite afford the fees to send Lily to Hogwarts. When Rosie wrote to me and informed me that Paul did not think he could manage the cost, I wrote back instantly and insisted that I pay for half. Rosie agreed, only so long as I made the whole thing appear to be a scholarship of some sort. Which I did.

"I continued to get reports on Lily as she grew up. I got copies of her grades, and Rosie sent me photos and letters. They meant a great deal to me, and really only made my desire to meet my daughter that much stronger. The spring before Lily's forth year was the first time I wrote her a letter, directly. It was before she returned home for the summer holidays so she would have some time to process everything before facing her parents again. It was after that that we began regular correspondences.

"Lily was... torn. She loved Paul Evans very much. He had been a good father to her, and she did not want to hurt him. She did not tell him about me, and I was willing to accept that. Lily had also spent a great many years identifying herself as a Muggleborn Witch, and suddenly that self-image was turned on its head as she discovered that she was not only _not_ a muggleborn, but that she was basically half-Veela. A magical _'creature'_.

"She had been quite proud that she, as a 'muggleborn' was one of the most powerful witches in the school. Undeniably the most magically powerful in her year. She thought it was a shining beacon against the bigotry of some of her peers. Proof that their rhedoric about muggleborns being weaker, was false. But that was suddenly taken from her, and it caused her a bit of an identity crisis, I fear.

"I'm not sure how many people she ever confided the truth of her heritage in, but I suspect it was next to no one. I know that she did tell James... but I suspect that she didn't reveal it to him until after he had proposed. I suspect the only reason she did it then was because she wanted to make sure he knew what he was getting into, but also to make sure that he well and truly wanted her for _her_, and not for any lingering effects of her Allure that she could not always control."

Lucas paused for a moment and Harry let out a long, slow breath, not having realized that he was basically holding his breath for great long spans while Lucas spoke.

His mother was a Veela. She wasn't muggleborn at all.

Harry had never known much about his mother. It seemed that so many people had comments to make on his father, but next to no one ever commented on his mother. The most he knew was that she was muggleborn, and that he had her eyes. Now he knew that she _wasn't_ muggleborn at all. But _Veela._ Which meant...

"Wait..." Harry said suddenly, holding up his hand, "if my mum was half-veela, then that makes me..."

"A quarter-veela. Basically yes."

Harry blanced with a sudden realization. "Does this mean I'll have that allure-thing too?"

"It is most likely, yes," Lucas said, nodding his head.

"And the bird-thing? Could my mum do that?"

"It takes training to perform the transformation, and as far as I know, your mother never attempted it. I offered to hire her a tutor for the transformation, but she never expressed any interest in learning it. She had a great deal of difficulty mastering her Allure, and after that, I believe she wanted to refocus on her school training, and so, did not move onto mastering her other Veela talents. She _did_ do some of the training for controlling her fire, but only as much was necessary to make sure she didn't start lobbing fire around when she lost her temper," he chuckled.

"Wait - fire? What's _that_ mean?"

"Ah, another trait that Veela are well known for is their control of fire. Accidentally setting things on fire is one of the most common sorts of accidental magic performed by young Veela. Your mother, for example, nearly burned down her primary school when she was seven. Rosie was horribly distraught," he said although the smirk on his face, and the amusement in his eyes, belied any attempt to fake sympathy.

"But _I _never set anything on..." Harry began, but trailed off as he frowned and looked down at his hands in his lap. He reached over and pulled the bottom corner of his overly-baggy second-hand shirt up, revealing the right side of his stomach where he had a very old burn scar. "Dudley told me once that I got this scar after I set the cupboard on fire, but I don't remember ever setting anything on fire."

"Hmm..." Lucas hummed while frowning deeply. "I think I would very much like to ask Petunia about that in a bit. But first, let us continue my story. During the tail-end of Lily's sixth year at Hogwarts, Rosie and Paul were involved in a car accident and both of them died. Lily was distraught, for obvious reasons, and for that one summer, she actually stayed with me and my family, in our home in France. It was the single longest period of time I got to spend with my daughter and I still treasure the memories from that time, no matter how many times she and I ended up quarreling."

"You quarreled?"

"We disagreed on a few things that she was quite passionate about," Lucas admitted with a defeated sigh. "I fear I drove her away, but I truly only wished to keep her safe. She, however, insisted that she did not need to be _kept safe_, and it was her life to live."

"What did you want?" Harry asked.

"I wanted her to leave England after her seventh year and come back and live with us in France."

"France," Harry whispered, realizing for the first time that this must be where his grandfather was from, and then instantly feeling stupid for not having registered it sooner since the man _had_ said he was sent to Britain while working for the French Ministry. Just the same, he would never have guessed it, because Lucas didn't have even the faintest hint of a French accent.

"Yes. I believed that England was growing far too dangerous a place, especially for someone who was officially known as a _muggleborn_. She was a prime target for Voldemort's forces, even if she hadn't been jumping up and down to join Dumbledore's little private army. I wanted her safe and far, far away, from the Death Eaters. She, however, refused to 'run away and hide'. She wanted to stay and fight for 'what was right'. She was never one to give up on her convictions, and she firmly believed in the fight and refused to abandoned her home country.

"I fear I angered her greatly in the end, and our communication was strained afterwards. I still paid for her final year at Hogwarts – in full, this time, since her parents had died, and I refused to allow her to use any of their estate for something that was my responsibility as her parent. And I attended her graduation, though few knew exactly who I was to her.

"Petunia found out about me when she had to go through her mother's things after the death. She found all of the letters between Rosie and I – apparently she'd kept them all in a box that she'd hidden in her closet. It was just one more reason for Petunia to rage against her sister, of course. Now she wasn't just the spontaneous freak occurrence, but the result of their mother's illicit affair with a monster. I suppose it helped to sooth Petunia's fears that she might be somehow contaminated by our unnaturalness simply by the fact that her sister had turned out a witch. I only met with Petunia a few times, but none of them were pleasant in the least. I swear to you Harry, if I had known that you'd been left with them, I would have been here before you even turned two. I really, truly, had no idea where you were placed."

Harry blinked, startled by the sudden shift from the story, to this impassioned apology. He swallowed and took a moment to pull together the swirl of confused emotions and thoughts in his head.

"Why didn't you come for me sooner?" he whispered.

Lucas sighed heavily and leaned back in his armchair. "My relationship with Lily grew ever more strained over the next few years after her graduation. She became more and more involved with Dumbledore's little band of lunatics and I wanted to protect her from his manipulations. But she married James, and there was never any chance of him giving up Britain, or the fight against Voldemort. They were the reason his parents had died, after all. They hadn't been a target, specifically; more like collateral damage, but their death had still be the fault of the Death Eaters during some sort of a raid, and James wanted revenge. There was, of course, also the argument that what they were doing was _the right thing to do_, and that the monster needed to be destroyed. While I would never disagree with the fact that the man was a lunatic, and posed a very real threat, I didn't think that there was anything that warranted them taking the law into their own hands, and there was _especially_ no reason for the pair of them to continue in their efforts once Lily became pregnant.

"By the time you were born, Lily flat out told me that she didn't want me to be a part of her life anymore. I never even got to meet you. I received the announcement of your birth, but she refused to let me visit. I tried to contact her again over the next year, but my letters always returned unopened. I thought..." he sighed heavily and shook his head sadly, "I thought she hated me. I was distraught when I learned that she and James had died, and I worried for you; what with all the insanity going around about you vanquishing that madman.

"I knew that James' parents were dead, and of course, Lily's mother and step-father were dead, and I wondered what would happen to you. I assumed that Lily and James would have made arrangements for who you were to go to – someone they trusted and that they knew would care for their child, but it didn't change the fact that we were blood, and I hoped that, whoever got you, would consider allowing me to visit you and perhaps be a part of your life. Plus, I knew that you would need to be informed of your Veela heritage, and taught the needed control when you reached that stage.

"It took me nearly nine months of going through red tape and being shuffled around before I even managed to discover that Albus Dumbledore had ended up as your public proxy, and when I contacted him he..." Lucas paused, twisted his face up with grief, "he lied to me. He told me that you had been left with very good family friends who could be trusted. That you had been placed where James and Lily wanted you to be placed, and that your guardians were informed of all information that was important and my _interference_ was not wanted, nor needed. He insisted that it was imperative that your location remain a secret, in order to keep you safe from the remnants of Voldemort's forces."

Harry felt his whole body freeze with denial and anger.

"I was a fool for believing him. I knew better too," Lucas growled, glaring down at his hands that were weaved together in his lap. "I _knew_ not to trust that manipulative old bastard. _I knew it!_ Never in all my years have I encountered such a silver tongued devil."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, suddenly, feeling torn between anger and horror.

Lucas let out a small humorless laugh and shook his head. "Albus Dumbledore... he is a _big-picture_ man. I won't pretend that he hasn't done good for the world, but at what cost? He's one of those that looks at the game as a whole – a giant chess board – and each of the people involved are mere chess pieces. Pawns. He moves them around the board, putting them into position to trick or tempt out the desired moves from his opponent, before striking. Every move, intricately planed out, countless steps ahead. He's an 'ends justifies the means' player. He'll sacrifice any piece needed, so long as it guarantees victory. He sacrificed your mother, after all. I don't doubt for a minute that he'd sacrifice you as well."

"What do you mean, he sacrificed my mother?" Harry whispered, feeling cold and sick and fervently wishing he could just yell at this man that Albus Dumbledore was the greatest wizard alive, just like he had only a week prior to the diary-Tom Riddle. But he couldn't, because he wasn't so sure he believed it right now.

"Your mother was just another piece on the board," Lucas said sadly. "Both she and your father. There were whispers among those in high places about a prophecy. We of the Veela Nation have our own diviners of events yet unseen, and even _our_ people saw the coming fall of the one calling himself Lord Voldemort.

"Our Triad of seers saw several paths. In one path, the Dark One would grow in his power and wreak destruction upon Britain for a decade more before finding true death. In another, there would be a break in the siege, brought about by the sacrifice of a woman, and the power of her son. I have no doubt at all, that Dumbledore heard of these whispers. I wouldn't even doubt it if he had access to the British Magical Ministry's prophecy storage room in the Hall of Prophecy and knew even more than I do. Being a British matter, I suspect that lot were putting all sorts of efforts into finding a way to bring an end to that monster's war.

"Voldemort would have eventually been killed by someone, but with the sacrifice of _Lily_, and at the suffering of her son, his siege was put to a temporary rest."

"Temporary," Harry said in a shaky voice.

"Yes, Temporary. The triad has said that he did monstrous things to himself to defy the gods and cheat death. He will be back, we've no doubt about that. Dumbledore's meddling bought Britain time, but now the future is unknown. The Veela diviners know not what happens at the end of this path. I only hope that fool Dumbledore hasn't made a grave mistake with his meddling. He has cost me my daughter, and has cost you your parents."

"But how do you know?" Harry asked in a pleading voice. "How do you know that it was Dumbledore's fault? I mean..." Harry trailed off, finding himself speechless and lost.

"Has Dumbledore ever told you why your parents went into hiding? Why Voldemort was after them?"

Harry shook his head, thinking back to a year prior when he'd asked Dumbledore that very question and had been told that he was too young to know. He scowled at the memory. "I asked him once, but he wouldn't tell me." Harry looked up. "Do you know the answer?"

Lucas shook his head. "I can only speculate. As I said, if our diviners saw the coming of a way to put an end – even temporarily – to that madman's war, I have no doubt that the English did much the same. I also suspect that if Dumbledore was able to find out about any such prophecy, so would Voldemort. He had a vast network of spies at that time. Dumbledore likely got your parents into hiding, while Voldemort made efforts to hunt them down and kill them before they became a legitimate threat. I imagine that either Voldemort didn't have all the information, or Dumbledore set a trap. I'll never know if your mother knew anything of what was going on... she was loyal to Dumbledore to the point of blind faith, but I know Lily wouldn't risk her son for the man. Not really. At least... I sure hope not." Lucas heaved a sigh and sank back into the chair again.

Harry swallowed a thick lump in his throat and sat back into the couch he was sitting on, trying to process this mountain that had been heaved on top of him so suddenly.

Heavy silence stretched on for several minutes as Harry thought, and spun the new information around in his head. After a bit he looked back up at the man who was apparently his Grandfather and let out a long slow breath. He didn't know what to think about in regards to Dumbledore. It was all hearsay and conjecture, really. But... But Dumbledore had lied to his grandfather when he'd said that Harry was being left with people that could be trusted. And if Harry had understood Petunia earlier, Dumbledore had apparently told _her_ that Lucas was dead when she had insisted that Harry go to him instead.

Why would Dumbledore want him at the Dursley's, so badly?

"What made you come, now?" Harry asked suddenly.

"I tried to get in contact with you after you started Hogwarts. I sent countless letters during your first year, but none were returned or answered. I feared that you were just destroying them and not even reading them. I finally sent a letter that would notify me the moment it was received by you, but I never received that notification. I sent another letter with a rather obscure and difficult to cast tracking spell. It ended up going to the Edinburgh owl post office, and then ending up in their dead letter office where it was promptly burned. All unauthorized post, addressed to Harry Potter, ends up there now – except for the summers; during which your post ends up directed to the London Owl Post Office before getting burned."

"What! Why!"

"When I enquired, I was told that it was for safety reasons. _Harry Potter simply gets too much mail to sort through it all_, they said. _And too much of it is cursed to risk sending any of it on to the child. He's safer this way_." Lucas scoffed angrily. "I did some digging and found that your approved post list is controlled by Dumbledore – _still_. Even though, now that your over eleven, control of it should be back in your hands. I bet you didn't even know about it, did you?

"No! I've never even heard about any of this!" Harry replied angrily.

"The Owl Post Office should have sent you several things by now – pamphlets and forms for changing your approved sender list – no doubt Dumbledore intercepted them. It became obvious to me that it wasn't just the owl wards through the official post offices that was blocking my attempts at communication. No matter what methods I tried to get messages to you, while within Hogwarts, were thwarted. You never received a single one of my letters or missives. It made me suspicious and I began a quest to find out exactly what was going on with you.

"It took several investigators _months_ of efforts and numerous sketchy spells, but I finally started to get somewhere. I also managed to make some headway on the legal front and got some documents released. I only discovered that you were officially in the care of your _Aunt __Petunia_," Lucas sneered at the name, "four months ago. The time since then has been spent working closely with the families outside solicitors in preparing for today."

"Solicitors?" Harry asked, confused by that part.

"I am going to claim guardianship over you. Legally. That is, assuming, that it is what you want." Lucas hesitated for a moment, looking at Harry unsurely. "Would you like to come live with me, Harry?"

Harry just gaped at the man for the first few seconds before his brain jumpstarted again and he was up and out of his seat frantically shaking his head. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! He shouted."

Lucas' face was flushed with relief and happiness, and he laughed. "Merlin, Harry! Are you sure? I haven't even told you about my home, or my family. I thought you'd want something a bit tangible to prove my story. I brought a number of the letters that your mother and I exchanged during her later years at Hogwarts and some photos, as well as a selection of legal documents and –"

"Pictures? Can I see them?" Harry asked, finding that he really only cared about that part.

Lucas' smile softened and he nodded. He reached into his muggle suit jacket and pulled out a small box that looked barely bigger than a matchbox and set it down onto the tea table before tapping it with his wand. It instantly grew in size and came to a stop when it was about the size of a large shoebox made for boots. He opened it and began to riffle through it. Harry quickly realized that the box was deeper on the inside than it appeared possible from the outside, but he'd gotten accustomed enough to magic doing weird unbelievable things that he didn't bother to question it.

They spent the next hour pouring over the letters and photos and Lucas recounting a few select stories about Lily's fifth and sixth year while she dealt with her gradually growing allure, and her struggles to keep it under control and hidden, in a boarding school.

Lucas brought out a photo from James and Lily's wedding, and Harry instantly spotted Lucas in the image beside Harry's mum.

"Who's that?" Harry asked, pointing to the very pretty blond-haired older woman who was standing on Lucas' other side.

"That's my wife Aurelie."

"Your wife?" Harry echoed in surprise.

"Yes. I married her about two years after your mother was born, before I even knew about her, actually. Aurelie and I have three children, a two sons and a daughter. Each have children of their own as well, so you've got quite a number of cousins. The eldest is Alexis. He's just turned eleven, actually, and will be starting at Beauxbatons in the fall."

"Beauxbatons?"

"It's the most elite wizarding school in France. Much like Hogwarts is to Britain. I attended Beaubatons, as did all of my children."

"Oh. Wow," Harry said breathlessly, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden prospect of having a whole family he'd never known about. "How many... er... How many cousins have I got?"

"Leon, my eldest boy, has two sons of his own; Alexis and Sebastien, and a daughter, Adelle who just turned seven. Crestien, my second son, has a son named Geffroi whose seven, and a daughter, Mireille, who's just turned four. My daughter Lucienne has two daughters, Noemie, age five, and Lilou, who will be turning two in the fall. So that's seven cousins, two uncles, one aunt, and of course they each have their spouses."

Harry let a shaky breath escape his chest, too stunned with shock and hope for words.

Family. _He had family!_ And they were all blood relatives. He was just as related to these cousins as he was to Dudley – only _these_ cousins were actually magical!

But would they want him?

"Are they all, um... Veela?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Lucienne's husband, Henri, is half-veela. His father is a human wizard. Leon's wife, Josiane, is human, so their three children are all half-veela. Do not fear, Harry. You would not be singled out for having wizard blood."

"Oh..." Harry whispered softly, but feeling a great rush of relief. "Are you sure they wouldn't mind me, though?"

"Mind what?"

"Me... moving in," Harry mumbled hesitantly. "I mean, I'm the grandson from the muggle girl you had a tryst with before you even married your wife. Won't that _bother_ some of them?"

"Oh Harry. No. Not at all. They're all _so _excited to meet you. My sons and daughter followed along the whole way as I did my best to keep in contact with your mother. Everytime Rosie sent me another letter about Lily, and photos, my children would sit with me and read it. They thought of her as the sister they were kept from knowing. They all wanted to include her; to bring her into the family. And they've all been wanting to include _you_ as well. They've been just as outraged as I have to learn that I was lied to about your placement after you parents died."

Harry took another moment to try and wrap his mind around all of this. It almost sounded too good to be true, but there was also no way he could pass it up either. Honestly... it didn't matter what his grandfather said at this point; anything was better than the Dursley's. Just the same, he still had a few questions.

"So um... your home is in France, you said?"

"That's right."

"But I could still come back and go to Hogwarts, right?"

"Of course," Lucas replied adamantly. "However, I also want you to know that should you ever desire so, you could also transfer to Beauxbatons and continue your education there. It is entirely up to what you want to do."

"Er... right. Um... the thing is that, I don't speak French. Is that going to be a problem?"

Lucas laughed. "No, Harry, that's not a problem at all. There is a spell that has been in our family for generations that will help you learn French very quickly. I used it myself, many years ago, in order to learn English. The spell is even more successful if you are immersed in the language at the time it is cast. Nearly everyone in my family speaks English anyway, but in order for you to learn French more quickly, they'll likely speak it around you almost constantly. The spell translates everything for you for the first few weeks while it subliminally teaches your mind the language. By the end of one month of total immersion, you will likely be fluent enough to speak, read, and write french completely without the aid of the translation spell."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Wow. Magic is brilliant."

Lucas laughed lightly. "Yes, it's quite brilliant. It's been a life-saver for me. I've had to travel to a great many foreign lands for my diplomatic duties earlier in my career and it has always been a godsend to have no problems with language barriers."

"I bet. So what do you do? I mean... you mentioned diplomatic stuff..."

"I still act as a dignitary on diplomatic assignments from time to time, although I am mostly retired now in that area. I specialized in foreign legal disputes for many years – I have practiced law as well, as a matter of fact, and often represent The Family in legal dealings between the Veela nation and foreign countries, although we still have another firm on retainer."

"Oh, wow."

"I suppose. Mostly now, it has served me well since my experience, position, and my connections have given me what was needed in order to guarantee that I could claim full and legal custody of you, should you agree to the arrangement. Everything is already arranged, and I have the magically binding documents with me. When we are ready, all that is left to do is for you to sign it, for me to sign it, and for Petunia to sign it."

"You don't need Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"He has no legal or magical claim upon you. No, he does not need to be consulted in this matter."

Harry nodded and shrugged. "Not that it would really matter, if he did. I'm sure he'd be just as eager as Aunt Petunia to get rid of me."

Lucas let out quiet growling sigh and shook his head. "Ignorant, monstrous, muggles."

Harry didn't say anything in response. He could hardly argue the point. He agreed wholeheartedly in his grandfather's assessment of the Dursley's.

Lucas shook his head and refocused on Harry. "I know you already said yet, but it really is a lot to agree to so suddenly. Are you still sure?"

"About coming to live with you?" Harry asked, incredulous that the man even had to ask.

Lucas laughed and nodded. "Yes. That."

"Yes, I'm sure," Harry said and nodded enthusiastically. "If I can still come back and attend Hogwarts each year, and your family really won't mind me being there, then there's definitely no reason for me not to go with you."

Lucas smiled softly and gave another firm nod of his head. "Good. Good. Now, lets go speak with Petunia and get the documents signed."

The two got up and Lucas performed a quick, silent spell with his wand and all of the photos and letters that had been spread out across the tea table were sent neatly flying back into the large shoe box. Another wave and the box shrunk down again, Lucas picked it up and returned it to his pocket. The pair left the sitting room and went in search of Petunia. She was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window with a deep scowl on her face. She looked up at them as they entered, and scrunched up her nose, as if she smelled something foul.

"Are you done now? Are you taking him with you?" She asked harshly.

"Yes," Lucas said simply. "I have documents for you to sign first, however. I also have a few questions.

"Fine, but make it fast," she snapped impatiently.

Lucas went and sat down at the table across from Petunia and Harry followed suit, after hesitating for a moment. Lucas began to fish through his inner vest pocket and began pulling out several folded thick sets of parchment and lay them out on the table before them.

Harry glanced at them and noted he could hardly read them with the fancy calligraphic writing that littered them. Large swooping flourishes and broad strokes made up the letters of the very official, but old-fashioned-looking document. It had a red-wax seal at the bottom along with a little ribbon, just below three lines for signatures. There were multiple pages to the documents, and Lucas spent the next twenty minutes explaining what was written on each of them. Petunia looked like she didn't give a damn what it said, so long as it meant Harry would leave, but Lucas was apparently using the opportunity to explain certain legal-magical rules to Harry, as well as impress upon him the importance of never signing your name to a magical-legal document without reading and understanding it first.

From what Harry could gather, it sounded like Petunia was disavowing her status as a blood relative to Harry, giving up all rights to him, and all rights she might have held as a guardian over him. There was also a stipulation that, once given up, she could never again seek to regain the rights she had just forfeited.

She was handing all rights and responsibilities of guardianship over to Marquis Lucas Merovich Conseil, and acknowledged the man as Harry's nearest and most magically appropriate blood relative, and rightful caretaker. By signing the document, Harry was agreeing to regard Lucas as his guardian, and Lucas himself was agreeing to take his new responsibilities seriously; take care of Harry, protect him, teach him, and fight for his rights.

They'd been at it for quite a while before they finally all three signed it. Petunia was irritated at the sheer amount of her time that had been eaten up by the whole activity and was clearly anxious for them to leave.

"There is one last thing that I wish to ask you, Petunia," Lucas said as he folded the parchment and returned it to his inner pocket.

She sneered with distaste and impatience but didn't say anything.

"Growing up, did Harry ever have any accidents involving unexplainable fires?"

Petunia's expression shifted and her eyes widened slightly. "Yes," she answered in a clipped tone. "When he was still quite small – probably no more than five years old – he often set things on fire. It was horrible and terribly frightening. There's no telling what he could have done to the house," she screeched indignantly. "One day, he nearly _did_ burn the house down. Set fire to his... to his _room_. It was awful. We decided that was the end of it, and I wrote to that mad old headmaster and told him to take the boy away. That if he didn't come and take him that we'd drop him off at the nearest orphanage and leave."

Harry's eyes were wide open and he felt a swirling maelstrom of confusion coursing through his mind. He didn't remember _any_ of this. What was she talking about?

"What happened after that?" Lucas asked tightly.

"The man showed up the next day. He took the boy with him and we thought we were finally free of the little monster."

"But you weren't?"

She sneered deeply and it made her look horribly ugly, Harry noted. "No. He returned the next day. He said he'd done something to the boy to make sure that there wouldn't be any more fires and he fixed the damage from the ones the brat had already set. He said the boy wouldn't even remember the fires and to never mention them again." She scoffed angrily. "As if we would discuss something like _that_!"

"He fixed the damage," Harry whispered.

"What's that?" Petunia snapped impatiently.

"You said he fixed the damage. What I set fire to was the cupboard, wasn't it?"

She sniffed defiantly.

"Which means, he had to have _seen_ it," Harry went on, his voice going cold and hard. "And he... he _fixed_ the damage... and _left_ me here."

Petunia narrowed her eyes, daringly, but said nothing.

"He made me forget," Harry whispered, mostly to himself, and had to fight very hard to control the boiling rage that was threatening to boil up from within him. He didn't want to believe it; didn't want it to be true. There had to be some explanation, some _reason_... but Harry rather doubted that any explanation could justify to him what had happened to him.

It was one thing to think that Dumbledore had left Harry with the Dursley's, honestly believing they would take care of him, and simply not _realizing_ how awful they were, but it was another thing entirely to realize that Dumbledore _knew_, and willfully left him there _anyway_.

He just... he just wanted to _scream_.

"Thank you... Petunia," Lucas said in a cold, clipped tone before standing up from his chair and motioning for Harry to do the same. "Come on Harry. Let's get your things, hmm?"

Harry stood and followed Lucas in a state of numbness. His mind was too busy raging between denial and unadulterated fury to even notice what was going on as they passed the cupboard and Lucas opened it with a flick of his wand and levitated the luggage within, out and set it to follow them as the pair trudged up the stairs.

They entered Harry's room and Lucas came to a stop in the center of the room and looked at Harry with sorrow and frustration clearly intermingled on his face.

"I am sorely tempted to bring charges against that man," he growled. "As angry as I am, I know any case brought against him would be ineffective and simply draw his attention to us sooner."

"He knew," Harry ground out and found himself squeezing his eyes shut tightly and fighting against the painful sting of betrayal threatening to bring tears to his eyes.

He heard Lucas sigh heavily, and felt it as his grandfather gently touched his shoulders and guided him to sit on the bed.

"Yes, he did. But I already suspected as much. Tell me, Harry... do you know a woman named Arabella Figg very well?"

Harry opened his eyes and frowned up at his grandfather now in confusion.

"Mrs. Figg?"

"Yes."

"She... she looked after me whenever the Dursley's went out someplace fun or interesting."

"Her house was paid for, in full, by Albus Dumbledore. She moved into that house less than two months after you arrived here, at the Dursley's, and it was the first house in reasonable range that came up for sale."

Harry blinked, feeling yet another wave of horrified shock hit him like a giant wave. "Is she a witch?"

"I don't believe so, although I haven't cast any diagnostic spells on her to check. I believe she may be a squib, actually."

"Wait, what's a squib?"

"Ah, a squib is a person who descends from a magical line, but has no magic themselves. Sort of the exact opposite of a muggleborn. They could have a witch and wizard for parents, and yet have no magic themselves. They often have a very difficult time in life. I can imagine Dumbledore taking pity on the woman and paying for her living arrangements in exchange for her services as a spy on you."

"Oh god," Harry groaned as he let his head fall into his hands. "Crazy old Mrs. Figg... she _knew_. All this time... and she had to have told him. He couldn't have _not known_. He _knew._ He knew and he still left me here."

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry's shoulders shook with the force of his restrained misery, but he finally managed to contain his emotions and raised his head, looking his grandfather in the eye. "You shouldn't apologize. _He's_ the one who ruined my life. Voldemort took away my parents, but Dumbledore was the one who sentenced me to grow up with the Dursley's. _He's_ the one that kept _you_ away. I could have had a family that actually liked me. I could have – "

"And you still will," Lucas interrupted sternly. "You have us now. You have _me_ now, and I take the responsibility and duty of family seriously. We are family, and I am here for you now and forever."

Harry blinked quickly, trying desperately to fight back the sting of tears. He didn't cry. He hadn't cried in _years_. He hadn't even cried when the basilisk's fang pierced his arm and he was sure he was going to die. However, the next thing he knew, Lucas was sitting down on the bed beside him, wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulder and pulling him into his chest.

The tears escaped then, unbidden, and accompanied by great wracking sobs as his whole body shook with the despair he felt from the greatest betrayal he'd ever experienced in his already mostly miserable life. Harry's arms came up and he clung to his Grandfather fiercely, and simply held onto him, as his body purged years of pent up pain and misery.

Some indeterminate time later, long after the sobs had ended, Harry found himself still holding onto the man he had only met today, but who had come baring a hope that Harry had given up on many years ago. Lucas still had his arms wrapped warmly and reassuringly, around Harry, while the boy's face lay half-buried in the older man's shoulder.

"I'm sorry I got your suit messy," Harry whispered, and he felt rather stupid that, after all that, these were the first words he could coherently utter.

Lucas chuckled. "Don't give it a second thought."

Another silence passed for a minute, and Harry found himself simply basking in how incredible it felt to be held by someone. But his embarrassment was slowly overpowering his desire to continue the first lengthy and caring hug he could ever remember experiencing, and he gradually pulled away, shifting awkwardly and staring at his hands, now clasped in his lap.

"Feeling any better?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," Harry muttered, feeling more and more mortified with each passing second. He couldn't believe he'd just bawled into the man's shoulder like that. They were practically strangers.

"I have something else I think we need to discuss that our little discussion with Petunia revealed to me."

Harry groaned. "Oh, what now?"

"The fact that you were randomly setting things on fire at the young age of five is a sign of great power, however what Petunia said about Dumbledore taking you away for a day and then returning you with the guarantee of no more fires causes me great concern."

"I don't remember any fires," Harry said, scowling. "Does that mean he _obliviated_ me?"

Lucas nodded. "Yes, that is quite likely. However I fear he may have done something else far worse. Harry, are you going to be okay talking about this now, or should I wait?"

"No. I need to know now. Whatever he did, I just... I need to know."

Lucas nodded and drew out his wand. "I need to cast a few diagnostic charms to check for something. Is that alright?"

Harry nodded and Lucas began to weave his wand in intricate motions around Harry and quietly muttering words in french or something similar to it, at least. After a moment his expression went cold and hard and Harry saw a glint of unadulterated fury in the man's bright green eyes.

"He's a _monster_," Lucas growled angrily.

"What'd he do?" Harry asked, almost too afraid to know.

"He performed a _Modero_ binding on your magic. At the age of Five!" Lucas roared and stood up and began to pace.

"What's that?"

Lucas laughed humorlessly and finally paused to face Harry. "It's a spell used against certain magical beings when locked away in wizarding prisons to prevent them from accessing their naturally occurring magics. With a wizard, you can imprison him and simply take away his wand and he's basically defenseless. He has no access to his magic without his focusing agent to help him call to it. No wand, no threat. However many of us magical beings have access to our magic whether we use a focusing agent or not. We Veela, for example, can wield great fire, as well as several other powerful magics, with absolutely no outside medium at all. With the _modero _binding in place, your Veela magics are restrained and you have no access to them. Theoretically, when using a focusing agent like a wand, you could still access your magic, but it would be much harder. Have you had difficulty in school getting your magic to cooperate with you?"

Harry's jaw dropped and he nodded his head shakily.

Great Merlin, Dumbledore had bound up Harry's _magic?_ He felt sick and horrified and utterly furious.

"Can we get rid of it?" Harry rasped urgently.

"Yes," Lucas said determinedly "And we will. I will summon a specialist to the chateau as soon as we get home and we should be able to perform the unbinding ritual by tomorrow morning."

Harry nodded numbly and found himself sinking into the mattress slightly and staring blankly at the opposite wall while Lucas began to mutter angrily in french, occasionally saying something in English; usually along the lines of '_Modero Binding a child! Disgusting monstrous fool! Sale bâtard. Je vais le tuer!'_

Harry sat there, almost completely still for several minutes while Lucas ranted. He realized, on some level, that he was in some sort of shock. He suspected it was his mind's way of protecting him from all that he'd learned this day. He'd already had his big cry on his grandfather's shoulder and he didn't think he had the energy left to get furious over the discovery that his magic had been partially kept from him. The knowledge that his grandfather could reverse it was enough to keep him calm at the moment, although he expected that once his mind allowed him to face it all again, he would have a spectacular fit of anger.

Harry closed his eyes and pulled in a long slow breath, trying to pull himself into a state where he could function again. Finally feeling somewhat in control of himself again he opened them and looked around. His trunk was sitting by the door to the room, waiting. Hedwig was in her cage, eyeing Lucas curiously as he continued to pace and mutter. Her golden eyes turned and locked on Harry instead and he found himself smiling slightly.

"I can bring Hedwig, right?"

"What?" Lucas said, jerking to a stop and looking confused.

"My owl. I can bring her to France, right?"

"Hm? Oh yes, of course. We have an owlery, but she can also stay in your room should that be what you desire."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

Lucas looked at Harry and there was sadness there, mingled with hesitant hope. "We will fix all of this, Harry."

"I know. Thank you."

Lucas sighed heavily and smiled back a moment later. "Well, I suppose we ought to work on getting out of this awful pit, hmm? Is there much here you wish to take with you?"

Harry snorted. "Barely. I've got some things hidden in here, though," Harry said as he slipped off the edge of the bed and knelt down so he could pry up the loose floorboard where he'd hidden a few things that he'd had on him, instead of in his trunk when Vernon locked away his things.

"Um... Merlin this is awkward, but what should I call you?" Harry asked as he gathered his few meager possessions and began to add them to his school trunk.

"Well, that's up to you. If you wish, you can call me Luc, or Grandfather, or whatever you feel most comfortable with. Several of your cousins call me papy Luc or 'pepere'. A more formal option would be Grand-pere."

"Oh, okay. Um, I guess I'll think about it," Harry said with an embarrassed laugh, feeling both nervous and excited. "Oh hey, there was one other thing."

"Yes?"

"Well, I noticed earlier on the documents we all signed that your name was listed as _Marquis_ Lucas. Is your first name actually Marquis?"

Luc laughed slightly and shook his head. "No, no. Marquis is my title. Ah, I suppose I ought to explain a few things about our family's place in Veela society. It wouldn't be right for me to drop you on them all totally unprepared. First, a bit of a history lesson will be necessary I suspect. You see, Harry, our Veela ancestors were advisers to the Merovingian Kings that conquered Gaule."

At the blank stare Harry was giving him, Lucas apparently decided to elaborate. "Gaul is what France was once known as. Well, it was much more than just France, really. It was the region of Western Europe during the Iron Age and Roman era, encompassing present day France, Luxembourg, Belgium, and most of Switzerland. Ah and part of the western portion of Northern Italy. It was Merovech, the leader of the Salian Franks, and then his son Childeric who fought against the Visigoths and the Saxons to gradually claim the land for the Franks. For centuries, our people had lived side-by-side with the muggle Salian Franks. I'll be honest with you and admit that we were worshiped in some parts, but we were also trusted advisers to the ruling nobility both because of our power, but also our knowledge and the ease with which we can influence masses of people through the Allure.

"Our arrangement with the Frankish nobility continued up until shortly before the year 500 when Clovis, one of Merovich's descendants and the king at the time, married a woman named Nicene, and converted to her Christian Faith. After that, It was decided that they wanted nothing to do with us, as we were, undoubtedly demons of some sort and not to be trusted. We Veela then officially isolated ourselves from the muggles. It wasn't like we didn't see it coming, after all the Goths and the Vandals had been at least partly Christianized since the mid 4th century, and while the pagans were inclined to worship us, the Christians were far more inclined to try to hunt us down – so preparations had already been underway to isolate ourselves.

"Our people eventually ended up in an area that is now known as Creuse. We have a very large settlement that equals to be about 3,900 square kilometers that has been made unplottable to muggle detection for more than a thousand years. That's about three times the size of all of London, in case you don't know," he added and Harry just gaped at him and nodded.

"The muggles of France have no idea that our unplottable nation-within-their-nation even exists, and cannot enter our borders thanks to our elaborate system of wards, repellent spells, compulsion charms, and the implementation of a most incredible space-warping magic that was developer earlier this century.

"Their airplanes cannot even fly over us. When they began developing their airplanes, a group of our most skilled spell and ward crafters were set to the task of protecting us from their discovery, and ended up developing a sort of space bubble system that was added to our already advanced ward network. Now, any muggle or muggle-driven craft that enters one portion of the wards is instantly transported, as if through folded space, to the opposite side. They don't even notice the disruption. It is as if we are not there at all."

"Wow. So it's sort of like Hogsmeade and Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Far more elaborate. Hogsmeade and Hogwarts simply rely on enormous illusions and compulsions to keep muggles away. Plus Hogsmeade and Hogwarts are not self-sufficient and therefore require much less space. They still rely on importing the majority of their goods from other locations, and sometimes traveling to other nearby muggle villages to get supplies not available there, although more often they import things from magical vendors around England. We are a species unto our own, Harry, and do not wish to rely on imported resources that we cannot always guarantee access to. Therefore we are able to be entirely self-sufficient within the Veela nation. Our own agriculture, industry, and entertainment markets are held within the boundaries of our country."

"Wow," Harry breathed, taking in the enormity of such an idea. A whole _country_ isolated from the muggles and populated entirely by magical Veela. He felt the excitement growing. He couldn't wait to see it. He wondered if Hermione knew about this place.

"So, as you can imagine," Luc continued, "we also have our own government as well. The Veela Nation is an Imperial Nation. We have a royal family who have ruled since we first isolated ourselves from the muggles nearly 1500 years ago. I, and _you_, are descended from that line, however, while I am not in direct line for ascendance to the throne, I am still a part of the royal nobility. My Great Aunt, Genovefa, is our Empress, although she is intending to abdicate the throne to her Granddaughter, Princess Rusticula, next year. Rusticula's mother, Deuteria has been Arch Dutchess, and acting monarch for the majority of the last two decades anyway, however Deuteria wishes for her daughter to be the next empress."

"Whoa," Harry breathed out as he sat down heavily on his bed. "Wait... wait..." Harry held up his hand and squeezed his eyes shut, trying very very hard to push through the mental block of pure shock he was trying to wrap his mind around. "Are you telling me that I'm not only part magical creature from France, but I'm descended from the _Royal Line _of said french magical creatures?"

Lucas laughed and nodded with an unapologetically amused expression on his face. "Yes," he simply said.

Harry barked out an almost hysterical laugh before shaking his head. "This day is definitely going to go down as the most insane and shocking day of my life. And here I thought that nothing could ever top the day Hagrid came and told me I was a wizard, but you have _definitely_ managed to top it."

Lucas laughed again. "Glad I could be of service. Now, have you got everything packed that you wish to take?"

Harry looked around one last time, seeing nothing remaining that he valued at all before looking back at Lucas and smiling. "I've got everything. So how are we going to get there?"

Lucas stood up and waved his wand, causing the trunk to begin floating in the air again. Harry reached over and picked up Hedwig's cage and carried it as he followed Lucas out of his room.

"Have you ever taken a portkey before?" Luc asked.

"Er... I don't even know what that is," Harry admitted sheepishly.

"No worries, Harry. It's hardly your fault you were isolated in this miserable pit," Lucas grumbled and then went on to explain to Harry what exactly a portkey was, and what he could expect from the experience. Instead of going out to the front garden, Lucas led him into the back. Petunia was in the sitting room as they walked through the entry hall and Harry didn't even bother to say anything. She had already made it perfectly clear how she felt about him, and the feeling was entirely mutual.

They ended up in the back garden and Lucas presented Harry with a small clay cup. Harry looked at it curiously as Lucas explained that Portkeys were generally made out of seemingly innocuous objects to make them harder to discover. Harry shrugged and followed his grandfather's instructions as he held tightly onto Hedwig's cage while touching the cup with the other hand. Lucas had a hold of Harry's trunk in his freehand and a moment later he spoke the activation phrase and they were whisked away to France.

– –

What followed over the course of the next two and a half months was what Harry considered to be the best summer of his life thus far. But what was most amazing was that, for the first time in his life, he had hope for future summers to be just as good if not better.

Just as his grandfather had promised, the very morning after Harry came to stay with him, a special sort of healer was brought in to break the binding spell upon Harry. It had been a shocking adjustment for Harry, and for several weeks afterwards, he had felt like his magic was utterly out of his control. The good thing, however, was that since he was now within the Veela nation, there was no fear of prosecution for performing underage magic, and he could practice all he wanted to get his magic back under control.

Harry also got to meet his family. Harry had moved into the Chateaux de Faucon, which as far as Harry was concerned, was a palace in it's own right. It was located in the royalty district of the Veela Nation's central city, Iledevol. It was where all of the governing buildings, as well as the traditional residences of the royal family resided. There were several large manor houses, as well as one especially impressive palace where the main line resided.

Chateaux de Faucon was home to the majority of Lucas' family, although his daughter, Lucienne lived in the city with her husband, Henri and their children, and Leon's family had a home of their own that they resided in during the winter months. However, this was summer, and Leon, his wife, and their three children, were living in the Chateaux along with Lucas and his wife Aurelie.

Aurelie had married Lucas a few years after Harry's mum had been born, so she and Harry had no actual blood ties to each other, but that did not stop the woman from insisting that he call her grandmother. Or _'mamie'_, as the other children called her. Lucas became papy Luc quite quickly as well.

After a week in the Chateau, Lucas' second son Crestien, and his family, returned to the chateaux from a holiday abroad and they were all enthusiastic in their welcome of Harry into the family. With Leon and his wife, and their three children, and Crestien and his wife and their two children, Harry had worried that the place would be overly full and that there wouldn't really be enough room for _him_, but his fears were quickly assuaged, merely by being given a proper tour of the Chateaux. It truly was enormous, with four floors, two wings, a huge library, an observatory, several small dining rooms and one large dining hall, and more bedrooms than Harry could think of what to do with.

It was certainly a drastic change from the Dursley's house, that was for sure. Harry also realized that his new extended family weren't actually the only ones living there. Several of the staff and their families also lived within the manor.

As Lucas had promised, Harry had been placed under the translation spell that would help him to learn French without even realizing it. It was extremely unusual at first because on some level, Harry _knew_ everyone around him was speaking in French, however his mind registered everything in English. But what was truly odd was that after a week, his mind began to interchange various words for the french counterpart, but he still understood completely what they meant. It continued to progress quickly until he was actually _thinking_ in French, without it seeming even the slightest bit odd. Just as Lucas had said, by the time Harry's birthday rolled around, he was fluent in the language and consciously switch between English and French at will, and could understand and speak in both just as fluently.

The month of July had been spent doing much more than simply learning French, however. The Conceil children had tutors that taught them over the summers, and Harry was quickly swept into those lessons.

While the children had their normal lessons during the rest of the year, the summer months lessons were reserved specifically for training in control of their Veela skills. Since the eldest of the children was Alexis and _he_ was only eleven, none of them were having to deal with the Allure yet, however they were _all_ facing the issue of their fire, and this was definitely something Harry found he needed help with as well.

Not only had his magic in general felt a bit out of control once his binding was removed, but his veela magic felt utterly overwhelming. He had felt horrible after the sixth time he'd accidentally set fire to something in his sleep, but his papy Luc insisted that he had nothing to apologize for and it wasn't even the slightest of inconveniences. The whole chateaux was warded against fire – _everything_ in the Veela Nation was – and there were spells in place to suppress all fires started within seconds of them starting. Still, Harry found it embarrassing to know that seven year old Geffroi had better control of his fire skills then Harry did.

He just hoped that he'd have his fire magic under control by the time he got back to Hogwarts. The last thing he needed was to accidentally set fire to his bed hangings, or cause some sort of explosion in Potions class.

The Veela magic lessons that he was attending with his cousins were helping, and his tutor was confident that he'd have a handle on things by the time he went back to Hogwarts. Harry just hoped it were true.

But on top of his desire to simply stop setting things on fire, on accident, Harry honestly found himself enthralled by the more high level fire animation that the tutor demonstrated. His cousin Alexis was also especially good at it, and Harry promised himself to keep working at it till he could control it that well.

The other subject of study, in these lessons, that Harry was able to join in on was the avian form transformation. Papy Luc had demonstrated the Veela avian form to him his first week in the chateaux, and at first he hadn't quite known how to feel about the whole thing.

One detached part of his mind definitely recognized that, from a wizard's point of view, the Veela avian form was probably a bit monstrous. At the same time, another part of Harry's mind thought it was incredible, and sort of beautiful.

Papy Luc's appearance had changed quite drastically upon transforming and yet some part of Harry could still instantly recognize him as the same man. He was still humanoid, with two long legs, and upright torso, shoulders and arms – so on a very general level, he still maintained many of the same proportions. However his legs changed drastically; feet were replaced with taloned bird-like feet and legs reminiscent of a ostriches or something, where the knees were higher, and the tibia bones met with the ankle was much higher than on human legs, making it almost look as if a portion of his legs bent backwards at a joint Harry wasn't used to. His feet were entirely bird-like with three long taloned digits at the front and a single one in the rear. The skin of his legs and arms were free of feathers and covered with a sort of leathery scales that reminded Harry a bit of the skin on a turkey's neck and head.

His rib cage changed shape quite drastically. Along the center where a human sternum would be located, a long avian keel appeared, causing a sharp, angled protrusion to come out of the chest. There were also feathers scattered across the torso, with most of them focused along the shoulders and clavicle area. His arms still looked rather human in general shape and structure, although there was considerably less fat, so the muscle and tendons were more pronounced, and the skin was once again leathery and scaled with scattered feathers along the back of the upper-arms, down to the elbows. The hands, like the feet, had large heavy talons on the tips of the fingers, but at least the hands themselves still looked mostly human, with four fingers and a thumb in the same general shape that Harry was accustomed to.

The head was a rather dramatic change, and yet there was still no question at all that it was still his grandfather. His hair was completely replaced with shiny red and black feathers similar in color to his old hair, that went all the way down the back of his now-wide neck and smoothly down into his shoulders. Where his nose and mouth had once been, a beak had replaced them. It was the same sort of downward hook-curved beak you'd find on a bald eagle, and it was a bright golden yellow color. His eyes were the same, and yet also different. They were a hawk's eyes, but they remained the same striking green color, and similar in shape, but larger than they were before.

The wings protruding out of his back were surprisingly small considering the overall size of of the main body. He had a wing span of only about 7 feet wide, which obviously wouldn't be sufficient to lift a body of a full-grown man, but it was explained to Harry that Veela wings weren't what actually allowed a Veela flight; they did _that_ with their magic. The wings were actually only used for steering and additional maneuverability.

The Allure didn't manifest until puberty, and the _urge_ to learn to transform also waited till that time to start, but that did not mean that it was not possible to start learning it before then. In fact, according to the children's tutor, once long ago, Veela were born in their bird form and had to learn how to transform into the human form around puberty. Co-existence with humans and frequent interbreeding with witches and wizards had eventually resulted in the way things were now, where Veela children tended to be born in their human form.

Harry started working on his transformation as well, although he wasn't exactly making much progress. For the first three weeks, in fact, he made no progress at all. It made him worry that having the binding on his Veela powers for so long had stunted his ability to use his Veela magic – after all, even five-year-old Noemie, was able to sprout feathers, transform her legs, and get taloned fingers. But during a lesson, almost exactly one month after starting study, he sprouted feathers all along his shoulders and back, and found himself rejoicing in excitement.

He couldn't even quite explain why part of him wanted to do this. Part of him still thought the Veela avian form was a bit hideous; and yet another part of him would watch his cousin Alexis fly around the gardens in his full avian form and think he looked... _incredible._ Graceful and beautiful. His shining red and yellow plummage almost _glowing_ in the bright warm sun.

There was also the very real allure of _flying_.

It made him wonder if the reason he felt like such a natural on a broom had nothing to do with his father the Quidditch star, at all, but was instead something he inherited from his _mother_ and her Veela blood. Perhaps his instincts for catching the right wind and getting the trajectories and the speed _just right_, was because of his avain nature. Ever since his first time on a broom he had felt at home in the sky.

Perhaps this explained all of that.

While most of his time and focus over that summer was spent getting to know this whole new huge family he had gained, and trying to learn as much as he could about the species he had just come to realize he was a part of, there were other notable discoveries and decisions made while staying at Chateaux de Faucon.

The first and most painfully obvious discovery was that whatever measures Dumbledore had taken to filter his mail in Britain, it did not work in France, or at the very least, it did not work in the Veela Nation, because all of a sudden, Harry was getting a _lot_ of unsolicited mail.

Being of the royal line, the Conseil were at least prepared to deal with this. There was already a person employed to check the safety of incoming mail, so Harry's mail was filtered through there first to make sure nothing was cursed or had tracking spells on it. Most items did _not_, but there were some that did.

Apparently news of the Chamber, or rather, _rumors_ about the Chamber had gotten out into the Daily Prophet or something back in England, and a number of Harry's letters were in regards to that. But there were others that had nothing to do with it at all.

There was one little girl who had written him a letter that Harry got the distinct impression from, that she had been mailing him regularly for a very long time, and the fact that he had never responded to any of them had not deterred her from continuing to do it.

He found he felt quite badly that all these people had been mailing him all these years and he'd never once written back. No doubt they would all have assumed that he was just rude, or maybe they'd think that he was arrogant, like Snape believed, and that he thought he was _too good_ to bother writing them back. It just served to renew his bitter anger aimed squarely at Dumbledore and all that he had done to Harry.

There were many times that Harry wished, _desperately_, to understand the man's motives. Even now, he had a hard time imagining Dumbledore would have ever done any of this for the sake of making Harry suffer. Dumbledore wasn't an _evil_ man... at least, Harry certainly hoped not. Surely the man had a _reason_ for doing the awful things he'd done to Harry. But then he'd scowl and realize that it didn't matter _what_ reasons Dumbledore believed he had for doing what he did. It didn't make it alright.

In regards to all that Dumbledore had done in an attempt to force Harry's stay with the Dursley's, Harry and his papy Luc decided it was best to keep Harry's new living situation a secret for as long as possible. As a result of this decision, Harry had _not_ told his friends about all that had happened to him. Hermione and her parents had gone on holiday to Greece for most of July, and she'd only been able to write Harry once while away.

Ron's father had won some sort of drawing prize from the Daily Prophet and as a result the Weasley's had gotten some large sum of money and they had taken the money and the whole family, and gone to Egypt to visit their eldest son, Bill and take a well-deserved vacation. Ron had written Harry excitedly about all of this just before they'd all left for their trip, and had only written once while they were staying abroad. The letters had been longer than Ron's usually were, but he supposed that was because Ron actually had a lot of interesting things to talk about for once. As a result, it wasn't all that hard for Harry to simply not mention anything about what had been happening to him, and had instead focused on being excited for Ron.

Harry's birthday was undeniably the best one he'd had to that point. His whole family was there, even his aunt Lucienne, her husband and their two daughters came for the party his papy Luc had thrown for him. Harry sat at the table with a beautiful cake in front of him, and his youngest cousin, Lilou, sitting on his lap, while he blew out his thirteen candles. Luc had thought the tradition was amusing and insisted on it, since Harry had never gotten to do it before.

Harry also got to experience some local Veela-made red wine for the first time. He was surprised when Alexi was also allowed a small glass. The boy apparently had had some before since he didn't even grimace at the taste, while Harry's face had twisted up, not entirely sure what to make of the flavor.

Both of Harry's friends sent him presents on his birthday, despite both of them being out of the country – little did they realize, so was Harry. In Hermione's letter she wished him a happy birthday, hoped he wasn't too miserable with his relatives, and then pointedly asked him if he'd completed his summer homework yet. It actually made him laugh, where as he was sure if he was still with the Dursley's, it would have actually annoyed him. He was able to write back and proudly proclaim that yes, he _had_ gotten it all done.

As part of training to get his now unbound magic under control, he'd actually gone back through a number of his setbooks and practiced all of the spells he'd had trouble with before. It didn't take him long to get through all of them because this time not a one gave him trouble – unless you considered accidentally _overpowering _his spells, _trouble_. He was excited by his new success with his magic, and actually found himself seriously looking forward to what sort of spells he would get to learn in the coming school year.

That didn't mean he was going to turn into Hermione though. He still found recreational reading mind numbing, and he would _never_ enjoy writing essays on magical theory. But just the prospect of not struggling so much with the practical spell work lifted his spirits. He suspected he might really enjoy his classes this year.

After his party had concluded, Harry and his family went out on the town and enjoyed an outdoor pantomime in the raised in-ground stone amphitheater in La Place Centrale Park of Iledevol. Harry had never seen anything like it, and was mesmerized by watching the play unfold. Several of the characters in the pantomime were in their avian form throughout the entire thing, and actually flew quite a bit, with choreographed grace.

He realized with a sudden sense of yearning that he wanted to do that. He wanted to _fly_.

He refocused more of his efforts on trying to succeed in his transformation. Alexis was helping him, and since the boy himself and only just mastered it to the point of flight during the previous year, his advice was the most helpful to Harry. Their tutor was good too, but he was much older and Harry wasn't able to connect as well with his advice as he did with his eldest cousin.

Still, Harry didn't get much further than leathered-scales and feathers, and only the slightest beginning of a keel protrusion. His head remained completely unchanged and the only sign of wings were an uncomfortable heat and the sense of pressure in his back. To make up for his frustrations in his lack of success, Harry would spend afternoons on his broom, flying through the air and chasing after Alexis in his avian form.

In addition to the time spent with his eldest cousins, playing and studying, Harry also found that he really enjoyed babysitting the younger children whenever the need arose.

He absolutely _loved _babysitting Lilou, who was only two years old, and found he had quite a knack for keeping her entertained. Mirielle, age four, Uncle Crestien's youngest, and Noemie, age four, Lilou's sister and Aunt Lucienne's eldest, were _very_ close. They were only about six months apart in age, and had obviously grown up spending a great deal of time together. They actually looked rather alike as well, although Mireille had the Conseil family green eyes like Harry, and had reddish hair, while Noemie had inherited her sharp blue eyes and blond hair from her father. Harry joked that if you shaved both their heads and ignored the eye color, the two could probably pass for identical twins. Both girls looked utterly affronted by the mere suggestion of _shaving their heads_, which caused Mireille's older brother Geffroi to roll with laughter.

By the time mid-August arrived, Harry could say without a shadow of a doubt that he was totally and utterly happy. In the beginning he had felt a bit like a stranger intruding upon this wonderful happy family, but as his summer neared an end, he definitely felt like he was a part of the family. They had made him feel, not only welcome, but as if he really and truly were apart of them. He felt like he _belonged_.


	2. When One Connects with Family From Afar

AN: ffnet does some screwy things with the files. Italics and bold text seems to remove any spaces between words, and the use of an ! and ? together, tends to delete the ?. Rather annoying.

In order to speed things along in Harry's first term, a big portion of it is done through letters. This is the only chapter where I do this, so for those that don't like it – it won't last, don't worry.

– –

Chapter 2 – When One Connects with Family From Afar

The second week of August, the family went to Paris to get Alexis' supplies for his first year at Beauxbatons. Harry had already been taken shopping several times in Iledevol's shopping markets back in the Veela Nation, and had gotten some of the more general supplies he might need. While there, he had visited an Optrix and gotten new glasses, but had also been dragged into several clothiers to get a whole knew wardrobe of casual robes, trousers, tunics and, much to his embarrassment, and secret gratitude, pants, socks and undershirts.

Anything that they hadn't been able to get in Iledevol's shopping centers that Harry knew he'd need for Hogwarts had been owl-ordered from London, so he was technically all set for the new school year, but that didn't mean he wasn't looking forward to the trip to Paris, just the same.

Located in the 9th arrondissement near Metro station and the Boulevard Haussmann (a very well known muggle shopping district) was the entrance to the underground magical shopping distract called Forum de la Lumiere. Named so, mostly because of the innumerable fairy lights, and magically illuminated lamps that decorated the underground street of shops, all times of day.

Harry thought it was beautiful, and he couldn't quite decide which he liked better – the Forum or Diagon Alley. Iledevol still managed to rank highest on his list though – not because it's shopping district had been all that much more impressive, but more by how spacious and unrestrained he felt while there.

Both Diagon Alley and the Forum de la Lumiere were somewhat claustrophobic in nature, simply because of the need to remain hidden from the muggles while existing in the center of a bustling muggle city. Iledevol didn't suffer from such a restraint, so everything was spacious and warm, and _free_. Well, not _literally_, it _felt_ free. It didn't feel like he had to _hide_. They were safe there, and he could perform whatever magic he could while there without fear of punishment or fear of exposure to the muggles. What's more, the Veela didn't care one spit about The-Boy-Who-Lived, and he actually had yet to be recognized, or at least, if someone had recognized him, they hadn't cared to make a fuss.

He wasn't the only one that felt safe and free in Iledevol though, and that was probably what made the biggest difference. The overall atmosphere had just been such a breath of fresh air.

Just the same, Paris was still awesome, and he had a load of fun running around with Alexis and helping his cousin prepare for the excitement of starting his formal magical training.

Harry had gone under a few careful glamours that his papy had cast on him for safety's sake. The Veela might not recognize or care if he was Harry Potter, but Paris was a whole different beast to confront, and they all decided it was best if Harry Potter was not spotted in France.

Harry had learned, mostly through Alexis' excited ramblings, but also from his grandparents, aunts and uncles, that Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was located in Cannes in the south of France, and was just as world renowned as Hogwarts was. According to his Aunt Elodie, Uncle Crestien's wife, Beauxbatons had the highest number of halfbreed witches and wizards of any school in Europe, and quite a few of those were Veela.

Apparently there was another well known magical school that catered mostly to eastern Europe called Durmstrang, and a number of the half-breeds who were technically in Durmstrang's territory ended up coming to Beauxbatons instead. It was ridiculous, really, since there were just as many Veela in Germany and Eastern Europe as there were in France, but Durmstrang turned it's nose up at them imperiously.

Harry asked why and was informed by Aunt Elodie that Durmstrang had very strict standards on blood purity. They didn't accept _any_ muggleborns, and even if you didn't have a drop of muggle blood in your veins, anyone in the last two generations with '_Creature'_ blood was considered too _unpure_ to permit.

Elodie growled about elitist wizard bigots before sniffing disdainfully and changing the subject.

Harry also learned that while Beauxbatons accepted the most human/magical being half-breeds, Hogwarts was known for accepting the most muggleborns. Obviously each of the schools were known for different qualities and different teaching styles as well. For example, according to uncle Leon, Hogwarts' was not allowed to teach anything that the British Ministry had ever deemed 'dark' – and what the British Ministry deemed 'Dark' was not always widely agreed upon in other countries, his uncle pointed out with a scoff. But Beauxbatons was a more in-the-middle school. They taught spells that could, arguably, have some less than innocent results, but could also still have legitimate uses in society. To balance this, they also had a mandatory magical ethics course that the students fifth year and up had to take, and engage in school debates.

Durmstrang, it was rumored, had no hesitation at all in teaching the Dark Arts, and his uncle Leon rather strongly doubted those people even understood the meaning of _ethics_. Harry could tell it was obvious that none of his family had a very high opinion of the Durmstrang curriculum or their faculty.

It was all an eye opening experience for him. His whole world had been so small before. It had consisted almost entirely of Privet Drive, Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, and the Burrow. That was a very small world indeed, he realized, now that he had a better view of just how much was out there that he'd been missing. He hadn't even really thought about the existence of other magical schools – although in retrospect it was rather obvious that they had to exist.

Despite having his world view expanded, and knowing a bit more about his options, Harry was still set on returning to Hogwarts in the fall. He wanted to see his friends again, and he was looking forward to playing Quidditch and attending classes with full access to his magic for the first time.

"I hope that people won't be staring at me like some sort of monster again this year," Harry had muttered in french quietly one evening while playing a board game with Alexis called Jeu de L'Oie.

Alexis looked up at him and frowned slightly in confusion. "A monster? Because of all that Boy-Who-Lived stuff?"

"Er... well, I think I'm eternally doomed in that regard," Harry said frowning as he moved his game piece another three squares down the spiral path on the board. Alexis picked out the card that corresponded with the square Harry had landed on and asked him the question. Harry had to think for a moment before responding. He got it right, so he got to stay on his spot instead of being sent back. Alexi rolled the die next.

"So, if it's not the Boy-Who-Lived stuff, then what is it that they'd stare at you for?"

"Oh well... last year the whole school found out that I'm..." Harry hesitated, suddenly worried that his cousin might react badly to this revelation about himself.

Alexis looked up from where he'd just moved his game piece on the board and silently questioned him with his warm green eyes. "That you're...?" Alexis prodded.

Harry pulled in a strengthening breath and decided to press on. "Well, I'm a parselmouth. The other students found out and all freaked out. After that happened, everyone was always staring at me and whispering behind my back. I was hoping they'd all just forget but some of the post I got at the start of the summer said there had been an article in the Prophet about me rescuing a student from the Chamber, and it mentioned me being a parselmouth in there, so I doubt people will just let it go."

Alexis just frowned at him in confusion for a moment. "Why would they freak out over you being a parselmouth?"

A very relieved laugh escaped Harry's chest and he smiled at his slightly younger cousin, feeling extremely grateful that the other boy wasn't freaked out over it like so many of the kids at school had been. Hell, even Ron and Hermione had been unsettled by it.

Harry pressed on. "Well, they all think it's a trait of a Dark wizard or something. Because... because Voldemort was a parselmouth, and Salazar Slytherin was one too."

Alexis snorted. "It's hardly a trait of a _dark wizard_. What rubbish is that?"

"So it doesn't bother you? That I can speak to snakes?" Harry asked, hesitantly.

Alexi frowned at Harry with confusion again for a second before realization dawned in his eyes and his lips parted slightly with surprise. "Wait, how did you think you inherited the skill?"

"Huh?"

"Hang on. I haven't done this in a while, and I've only ever done it before when a snake was actually present," Alexis said, scrunching up his face in concentration for a moment before simply closing his eyes. He paused for a moment and Harry just looked at him in utter confusion until suddenly Alexis began to speak. No... he began to _hiss._

_'Is it coming out right?'_

Harry gasped.

Alexis opened his eyes and looked at Harry curiously. "Was it Parseltongue? I can't tell most times. It's one of the odder magical languages in how it works."

"You can speak parseltongue?" Harry gasped in disbelief.

"Sure, most of the family line can speak to at least a one or two different animal tongues. I'm also an Oscencantrix. That's someone who can speak to songbirds. Uncle Crestein and both of his kids are Bablatrices. Geffroi is a Parselmouth too, of course. All of us males are. The girls don't usually get it though."

"No way! Really? And what's a Bablatrice?"

"Bablatrices can speak with small mammals like rabbits and marmots. Adele is a Illatrator – that means she can speak with foxes, dogs, coyotes and such. We had a pet crup that only just died last winter, and she could talk with it. She loved that thing."

"Oh wow," Harry said with a relieved laugh that bordered on hysterical. He had been _so afraid_ of what it might mean; him being a parselmouth. Dumbledore's suggestion that Harry was one because he'd gotten the ability from Voldemort – that some of that monster's powers had _transferred to him,_ had horrified him. But it had been the only explanation at the time. Parseltongue was a hereditary trait, and there was no history of it in the Potter's, and his mum had been a muggleborn, so obviously it hadn't come from her. But she _wasn't_ a muggleborn. And now he knew that it _had_ come from her!

He was so relieved, he just wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but he held it in and pressed on with questions instead.

"Are all these abilities to speak to animals a Veela thing?" Harry asked.

Alexis shook his head. "No, not exactly. It's a family line thing. The story is that a thousand years ago, an ancestor of the royal line made a pact with the gods of the various animal races for the power to speak with them so that he could... do something. I don't really remember the whole story, really. The point is that he made a pact with the gods and gained the ability to communicate with about a dozen different animal groups. He used the ability to complete some sort of divine quest to protect Iledevor from an invading force I think, but it's really not important.

"The abilities were passed down to his descendents, but not all of his descendents were magically powerful enough, or just _compatible_ enough to handle _all_ those different magical languages, all at once. I mean, it's like even _he_ shouldn't have been able to have all those different and conflicting things at once, but he made those pacts and got around the problems somehow. Anyway, there's also simple compatibility issues to explain away why some of us get certain magical language traits while others get different ones. Mating with other magical races and adding their blood and magic to the mix would result in different descendents getting different traits as well. After that one ancestor no one in the line has ever been born who could manage _all_ of the different magical animal languages. At most we'll get maybe three of them, but even that's pretty rare. Usually it's just one or two."

"It's still incredible!" Harry exclaimed, feeling legitimately excited now. He wondered if there were any _other_ animals he could speak to, and he just hadn't realized it before now? "Is there a way to find out if I can do any of the others?"

"Um... try talking to different animals?" Alexis offered with a shrug.

Harry laughed and made a conceding tilt of his head. "I suppose that's one way to do it."

"We could fly around the chateaux's gardens and you could see if you can speak to any of the animals we find there," Alexis offered excitedly. "There's the small stables to the west with goats and sheep and such, and the shepherd's dog is always around, and there's always some water foul in the pond down south."

"Yeah, that'd be brilliant!"

In the end, Harry was not able to find any other animal species that he could speak to, but that didn't really mean much since there wasn't exactly a great variety of animals in the stables or gardens. He tried talking to songbirds with Alexis, but it didn't do anything, and he had no luck with the water foul either. He looked around for any small marmot animals – heck, even a squirrel would have worked, but he wasn't able to get close enough to any to even make an attempt.

That evening at dinner, he brought it up with his mamie and papy Luc and both were saddened and frustrated to learn of how the British Wizards had reacted to his skill, and went into slightly greater detail explaining the origin of their family line's rare and powerful linguistic magics. Harry learned that the translation spell that Luc had used on him to teach him French back in late June and July was actually a derivative of their linguistic magic and had been invented by one of their ancestors centuries ago.

Luc also offered to take Harry to the magical zoo that was located on the eastern edge of Iledevol sometime the next week to see if they could identify any other animal groups that Harry could speak with.

They made it a bit of a family affair for the kids with the grandparents taking all of the kids to the zoo in one group. Each of Harry's cousins who possessed one of the linguistic magics demonstrated their ability when they got the chance and Harry attempted each one with out any results. He was beginning to think that parseltongue was the only one he'd gotten, until right up at the end when the family climbed into a carriage drawn by two large winged horses, to take a ride around the outer perimeter of the animal park, and Harry paused a moment at the side of one of the horses to gently pet it's muzzle.

As he was about to leave it's side and climb into the carriage with the rest of his family, he paused, suddenly convinced he had heard something from the horse that wasn't quite as unintelligible as he would expect.

In the end, it was identified that Harry was a Equites Susurro, or a _horse whisperer, _and he had quite an interesting conversation with the two winged horses. He was shocked, but also utterly ecstatic. Surely there was no way anyone could claim that being able to speak with horses was a sign of a dark wizard!

– –

The Weasley's returned from Egypt on August 25th. Two days later, post arrived from Ron asking Harry if he'd gotten his school supplies yet and if not, if he'd like to go with he and his family on the 30th. Harry wrote back, informing Ron that he'd gone and gotten his supplies a few weeks ago, so no, but thanks for the offer, he'd see him on September first.

Harry was glad that Beauxbatons didn't hold the exact same schedule as Hogwarts. Without fail, every year Hogwarts students boarded the train on September 1st, no matter what, and classes started the first weekday that followed that. This year, September first was a Wednesday, and Harry's classes would start on Thursday making his first week a very short one.

Beauxbatons, in contrast, always had their students arrive on a Saturday, have Sunday to get settled in, and then start classes on Monday. That made the day that Alexis had to depart for school, August 28th, which mean that Harry could see him off.

Another significant difference was that Beauxbatons did not have it's entire student population pile into a single train so that they could all be transported to the school all at once, and arrive en mass. It was much more like any other boarding school where the parents took whatever mode of transportation they pleased and dropped their child off at school themselves. So long as the student was in the school by Saturday evening, that was all that mattered. If wiggle room was absolutely required, Sunday was also available for moving in, but it was highly frowned upon. The school's official Opening Feast was held Sunday night.

What this meant was that Harry actually got to _see_ Beauxbatons in person.

Uncle Leon, his wife Josiane, and papy Luc were the adults present that day. Harry was pleased that he got to tag along, since none of Uncle Crestien's or Aunt Lucienne's children had come along. Alexis was the oldest of Harry's cousins, and the first one to come of school age, so it was a big deal. His younger brother, Sebastein, was beyond himself with excitement and jealousy. He so desperately wanted to be going to school as well, but he was only nine and had two more years to wait.

Alexis' sister, Adelle, was seven, and said she was in no hurry to start going to school as she was perfectly happy with her tutors back at home. She was being rather sour that morning and Harry suspected it was mostly a way of covering up how upset she was that her older brother was leaving and would be gone for so long. Harry decided that he was going to help keep Adelle distracted from her sour mood, as they rode in an ornate carriage down the road from the magical transit depot near Goudon where they had floo'd in, to the magically unplottable location that held the Palace of Beauxbatons.

Harry's most successful choice of distractions for young Adelle was to tease Alexis about his school uniform, which he was actually already wearing.

It wasn't the sort of wizard's robes that Harry was used to in England, but after spending his summer in France, he'd come to realize that the French wizards had a very distinct taste in fashion and tended to like things that were a bit more form-fitted than the overly flowing robes worn in England.

The Beauxbatons uniform looked more like the clothes of a nobleman from the 1700's or something. They wore a long frock coat in light blue silk that was open in the front and went down to their knees. It had wide, loose sleeves, with silver piping along all the trimming, and a double row of silk buttons.

Beneath the coat was a waistcoat, cut low in the front, and displaying frilly lace, with a cravat. Then they had to wear plaited breeches that went to the knees where they were met with white silk stockings. Harry thought Alexis looked hilarious, and Adelle agreed.

Alexis just sat in the carriage in silence, beet red, and too embarrassed to stop them. Harry noted that he had once been mildly annoyed that he had to deal with a tie each morning before class, but he now realized he had no room to complain, and told his cousin that he had his pity.

Alexis finally decided to try and take the teasing like a man, and he and Harry started tossing jokes back and forth.

When they arrived at the Palace Harry stepped out of the carriage and stood in awe of the magnificent building. It truly was a _palace_. Hogwarts castle was everything he would expect from a medieval castle occupied by wizards, but _this_... this was a _palace._

Seeing Harry's look of awe and appreciation, Alexis jokingly asked Harry if he was sure he didn't want to transfer – after all, Beauxbatons had a much more diverse and interesting curriculum. Harry had to admit he had legitimately considered it a few times, plus he'd be able to go to school with all of his cousins as they each got old enough, but he still didn't want to completely leave behind his friends. Instead of saying all this, Harry had instead turned to his cousin, given his school uniform one more look before snorting and saying, 'As long as the school uniform requires blokes to dress like _that_, I'll be perfectly happy up in Scotland.'

Alexis had rolled his eyes and laughed.

In the end, it had been surprisingly hard to see Alexis go and return to the carriage to return to Goudon station to floo back home. Harry had held Adelle as she cried, finally admitting how distressed she was about her brother leaving, and then attempting to sooth her further as her sobs switched tracks and she started to wail about how much she was going to miss Harry, and her two favorite big brother's were leaving her. Sebastien pretended to get indignant over that, exclaiming 'Hey! What am I, then?', but Harry could tell he was just trying to lighten the mood and wasn't actually upset over her comment.

Adelle did qualify that Sebastien didn't qualify as 'big' yet, which made the 9-year old squawk with indignation all over again.

–

Harry's goodbyes with the family had to be done at home, rather than at the train station in London simply because of how overly complicated it would be to transport everyone via international portkey, just for goodbyes, so they could then all come back. It just wasn't reasonable. Instead, Harry's family gathered the early morning of September the first to bid him a fond farewell with promises of letters, and visits during the Christmas and Easter holidays.

Finally Harry, with Hedwig's cage in hand and his papy Luc with his trunk by his side, grabbed hold of an international portkey and vanished in a swirl of light and sound.

They were relatively early – having arrived just shortly before ten o'clock. The train would be leaving in just over an hour, but they had decided that it would be best if as few people as possible saw them arrive. The Portkey dropped them off already on Platform 9 ¾ in Kings Cross station, and Harry could see the large, shining red steam-engine directly before him. His eyes slipped off it and onto his grandfather's warm smiling face with sad twinkling eyes.

"J'ai eu le meilleur été de plus," Harry said with a shaky voice.

Lucas smiled and laughed a bit. "English Harry. Remember where you are now."

"Oh!" Harry said, before laughing slightly and ducking his head. "Wow, that's odd. I hardly even realized I was still speaking French."

"It happens that way when you learn a language magically," Luc replied with amused fondness in his voice.

"Right. Sort of like it's so difficult to tell when I'm speaking snake or horse."

Luc nodded.

"I've had the best summer ever," Harry whispered after a moment of silence.

Lucas smiled widely. "I'm glad."

"I'm going to miss all of you so much."

"And we shall miss you." Luc put his hand out and let it rest on Harry's shoulder gently. The weight of it was calming and Harry smiled up at his grandfather, feeling such a powerful wash of gratitude and _love_. His life had changed for the better this summer. He was sure of it.

"You'll let me know right away if Dumbledore gives you trouble, no?" Luc asked somewhat pointedly. "I cannot help you if you do not tell me when something is wrong."

Harry nodded. "I'll tell you, I promise."

"Even if it's something small and you feel it might be meaningless, it might not be. We do not know if Dumbledore will come right out and make accusations as to what has happened. He is crafty and known for his subtle manipulations. His greatest talent is getting people to do precisely what he wants without them ever even realizing they've been used."

Harry nodded his head firmly again, his eyes going a bit cold and the reminder of just how angry he still was with his headmaster.

"But do not fear, Harry. He cannot take you from us. I have taken every precaution, and safety measure, and even Her Empress, Great Aunt Genovefa, has said she will stand with us should a dispute arise with the British Ministry. But that does not mean that Dumbledore cannot cause trouble. So long as you wish to continue at Hogwarts, he will have opportunities to complicate your life and muddle your choices. I commend your loyalty to your friends and your courage in wanting to stick things out here, but know, my grandson, that you are _always_ welcome back home."

Lucas gave Harry's shoulder a firm squeeze and Harry looked up at him with slightly watery eyes.

"Thank you... for everything," Harry whispered.

"No thanks is needed. We love you Harry. Just promise to stay in touch. If I don't hear from you at all in two weeks, I'm going up to Scotland and making sure nothing has happened, so do not forget to write!"

Harry laughed and nodded. "I will, I promise."

"Good. And we expect you home for the holidays. If the headmaster gives you any trouble when it becomes known that you are going home for Christmas, let me know right away if you need assistance."

"I will," Harry said again, feeling overwhelming warmth inside himself at the knowledge that he had family that cared for him and worried about his well-being. Family that _wanted_ him home for the holidays.

Their goodbyes lasted a few minutes longer, but a few more people began to trail in through the archway that exited out to the muggle portion of Kings Cross station, and they knew that any longer hesitation would only increase the risk of discovery.

Lucas helped Harry get his trunk into the baggage car after they'd pulled out the small basket lunch that Harry's mamie had packed for him. One last quick hug was shared before Harry climbed the small metal steps and entered the train car proper. Harry turned back and waved out the door.

"Adieu mon petit-fils," Luc said quietly with a sad, watery smile.

"Adieu Papy," Harry said back before turning and disappearing back into the train.

– –

_*Translated from French_

_September 1__st__, 1993_

_Papy Luc,_

_What do you know about someone named Sirius Black? All I know at this point is hearsay and stuff people got from the Prophet so I don't know how much of it is actually reliable, but apparently he was a Death Eater and he escaped from the wizarding prison called Azkaban over the summer?_

_They say he's the first person ever known to have escaped from it and no one knows how he did it. Anyway, apparently the British Ministry has gone completely mad about his escape and has got Dementors roaming all over trying to hunt him down. What's worse is that they attacked the Hogwarts Express, and they're stationed around Hogwarts!_

_About halfway to Hogwarts, the train stopped and a couple Dementors boarded the train to search it. I had a horrible reaction to the thing and sort of passed out. It was awful. Who knows what would of happened if not for the fact that our new Defense Professor was in the same car as me and he banished the thing with some spell._

_I have to say – Madame Simone's description of the creatures, over the summer sounded horrible, but it doesn't even compare to actually seeing one in person. I hope dearly that I do not have to repeat the experience. Ever._

_Oh, and I told you that when I found out the name of my Defense professor this year I'd let you know, so here it is: Remus J. Lupin. I'm not sure what the J stands for, but it was on his luggage. He seems nice so far, if a bit ragged. He's got scars all over his face, and he had a strange smell. I kept feeling the skin on the back of my neck prickle the whole train ride while he slept. Oh – he was in the same compartment that Ron, Hermione, and I ended up in, which I suppose was really lucky because there's no telling what would have happened with that Dementor if he hadn't been right there._

_I still haven't told Ron or Hermione about the family yet. I'm not sure if I want to risk it, but I hate lying and I'm awful at it, most of the time._

_It's late and I should go to bed. Have you heard from Alexis yet?_

_Love, _

_Harry_

– –

_Sept. 2__nd_

_Harry,_

_Dementors around a school? That's outrageous! How can the Board of Governors, let alone Dumbledore, stand for such foolishly dangerous stupidity?_

_I will confess Harry that I have remained unfortunately distanced from British news this summer. I should have been aware that Black had escaped, and it is my own fault that this has caught us by surprise._

_I actually find it curious that the same summer Sirius Black escapes is also the year that Remus Lupin has come to teach at Hogwarts. Most curious, indeed. I sense Dumbledore's meddling here. Perhaps he is trying to set a trap for Black._

_But I digress; I am familiar with both names. In fact, I met both men when I attended your mother's graduation and her and James' wedding. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter were best friends. They were roommates, I believe, and spent their seven years of schooling sharing a dorm._

_That group I told you about that your mother joined along with James after graduation? The one run by Dumbledore? I'm positive that Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew were also members of it. The story is that Black turned out to be a traitor and gave information to Voldemort. He went to Azkaban for murdering Pettigrew and a bunch of muggles in some sort of explosion in London._

_As for Lupin... well, I must admit I'm both surprised and mildly impressed that he's being allowed to teach. I suspect that there is certain information being kept from the Ministry because I can guarantee that the British Ministry would never approve of him being 'allowed' around children._

_Your mother confided a great deal in me in regards to Remus Lupin during her sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. She was very fond of him, by the way, and they were quite close, especially after Lily began to train herself more and more in her Veela heritage and her senses strengthened. Lupin is not entirely human as I'm sure you would have realized on your own quite quickly the more time you spent around him. Seeing as how he's one of your teachers, I suspect you would have caught onto this fact quite quickly, indeed._

_He is a werewolf, but you must keep that quiet. If he is working at Hogwarts the Ministry must not have him registered as such. Should it become public knowledge, he would become a second-class citizen and loose many of his rights, including the right to hold a job._

_In other news, I heard from Alexis yesterday and ….._

– –

_September 3__rd_

_Papy,_

_Divination is rubbish! I think I'm going to drop the class and switch for Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. I have to act fast if I'm going to do this, or else it'll be too late. I can only take one of them. Which do you think is more important? Ancient Runes looks like it's mostly a foreign language course, along with the magical application of runes carved into things – would any of our family's linguistic spells help me learn it faster? Hermione says that Arithmancy is necessary for spell crafting, but it's a sort of math, right? I'm not sure I want that, really... but she was really enthusiastic about it. _

_Which brings me to something else... Hermione is taking _way_ more classes than she should be able to. She was in Divination, but she says she also attended Arithmancy, and they're at the same time slot!_

_And she's taking Muggles Studies! Muggle Studies! She's a Muggleborn! Ron and I think she's barmy._

_I also had Care of Magical Creatures today and Hagrid is the teacher! I was the only one in the class that actually knew how to get the book open without it trying to eat my hand off. It was funny, but Hagrid looked really sad that no one else seemed to like the book or find it amusing._

_Oh! I can talk to Hippogriffs! They're sort of a horse-bird hybrid, but I wasn't expecting to be able to communicate with them, since the front half of them is way more bird than horse. It was brilliant! I rode on the back of a Hippogriff named Buckbeak as he flew over the Black Lake and it made me yearn to fly so badly I started sprouting feathers along my neck. I barely had it all shifted back in time to land back on the ground._

_This prat named Malfoy tried to make trouble, and I just barely managed to pull him out the way before Buckbeak took a swipe at him. I should have let him get hurt though. He was outrageously rude to Buckbeak! But I really shouldn't expect any less from Malfoy. He's always been a git._

_He did look at me really funny after I'd pulled him out of the way. He smelled strange too. Not strange like Professor Lupin though, but not quite like you, or like Lucienne's children._

_I can't believe Professor Lupin is a werewolf! I won't tell anyone, don't worry. He's a brilliant teacher. A thousand times better than Quirrell or Lockhart ever were. I think I might try to speak to him about mum. It would be really something to meet someone that was one of her friends in school. And he was friends with my dad too. If he was roommates with him for seven years, he probably knew him really well._

_Hey, if Lupin is a werewolf, and he knew about my mum, that means he would know about me being a Veela too, right? It might be nice to have someone here at school that I could talk with about that stuff since I'm not planning on telling Ron or Hermione anytime soon. Do you think I can trust him?_

_-Harry_

– –

_Sept. 5th_

_Mon Harry,_

_I would say, go with Ancient Runes. Our linguistic spells can assist in learning the various languages associated with them much more efficiently than trying to learn a dead language any other way. Many people these days just memorize the runic alphabets and some of the meanings, but don't bother with the languages, so the magic is weakened by that. We can help you over the summer holidays and I imagine you could go quite far in the field if you desired it._

_Congratulations on the discovery that your __Equites Susurro skill extends to Hippogriffs! That is wonderful news. It makes sense though, so I'm not terribly surprised._

_The Malfoy boy you mentioned has sparked a bit of curiosity in me, I must confess. There is a decent number of Malfoy's living in France, and there are even some living within the Veela Nation by the name and with connections to the family. The family – or at least, the branch of it that resides in France – has a long history of mating with Veela. You say he smells different – could it be that he has Veela blood? You're senses are still only just beginning to develop, and if he is less than a quarter Veela, he would smell considerably different than your cousins who are all at least three-quarter Veela or more._

_In regards to Lupin, I would be wary about revealing to him that you know of your Veela heritage. We do not know where his loyalties lie, and if you tell him anything, he could turn right around and repeat it to Dumbledore. I would recommend testing the waters gradually. Perhaps, instead of letting him know that you are already aware that your mother was half Veela, you could drop hints that you are starting to come into your Veela powers, (trouble with random fires, perhaps?) but are confused by them. If he acts ignorant, then we can assume that Dumbledore has instructed him to hide it from you. If he tells you the truth about your mother, then you may be able to proceed – but proceed with caution. _

_Love, _

_Luc_

– –

_September 9__th__, 1993_

_Papy,_

_I'm not sure how to feel right now. I'm a bit angry and confused to be honest. So far, Lupin had been a great Defense teacher, and his class has been incredibly interesting. We had this activity today with a boggart where everyone had to face it, one at a time, and try to turn it into something funny. When it got to be my turn, Professor Lupin suddenly got in the way and wouldn't let me take my turn._

_Did he think I couldn't manage the spell? The boggart had started to turn into a Dementor, and it felt incredibly real... I'll admit I hadn't expected that, but I still know I could have managed the spell!_

_Oh, and his boggart turned into the moon. Not that I doubted what you said about him being what he is._

_I took your advice and switched to Ancient Runes. I just don't think I've got the right sort of mind for dealing with crazy theoretical numbers and spell calculations, and I don't really think that spell crafting is an area I care too much to go into it. This is definitely the better choice than Arithmancy, and I really like the idea of not only learning the runes, but also the old languages that go with them._

_You were right about that, by the way. The class isn't really going to make anyone fluent in any of the languages, just a basic introduction to Old English, Middle English, Proto-German, Old Norse, Proto-Norse, and Old Frisian. Can I really learn those with the family's linguistic spells? It won't be immersion like with French, so how will that work?_

_Let's see... Oh! Malfoy has been really weird ever since I saved him from the Hippogriff. Weird as in he's not picking fights with me anymore. It's just... weird. He still picks fights with Ron though, so my world hasn't completely turned upside down._

_I think you could be right about him being part Veela, but I haven't gotten a lot of chances to give him a good sniff without it looking completely loony._

_If he is one, do you think he could have noticed I'm one too? Would he have noticed before now, if that were the case, or did the binding conceal any hint of my Veela scent before it was removed?_

_Harry_

– –

_Sept. 11__th_

_Harry,_

_In regards to your questions about the Malfoy boy, and your Veela scent. Yes, the binding would have concealed a great deal of the outward signs that can be used to identify you as a Veela. Also, practicing your Veela magic brings the scent more to the surface. The fact that you spent the summer practicing your fire magics and attempting the transformation, and the fact that you had a partial transformation while riding the Hippogriff would have brought the scent very strongly to the surface. It was right after that, that you saved the boy, is that not correct? You likely came into close contact in that moment and exposed him more directly to your scent than normal._

_This could explain his sudden shift in behavior to you; assuming that he did suddenly notice the change in your own scent. It does not, however, guarantee that he is part Veela. It's possible he is something else entirely that also has a heightened sense of smell (which, most magical beings and creatures able to mate with humans are). I would probably be able to recognize what he is if I were there to smell him myself, alas, I am not, and even if I were I can imagine that would be a very awkward situation._

_I suppose my only advice is to be cautious around him, and simply appreciate the reprieve in his antagonism towards you._

_Love, Papy_

– –

_October 4__th__, 1993_

_Papy Luc,_

_This is the forth Quidditch practice where I started to partially transform while in the air! I'm so lucky no one noticed, but they don't pay much attention to me when they're all focused on the bludgers and the quaffle. I could feel the muscles around my shoulder blades shifting and burning. My wings want to come out so badly, but I'm not quite there yet. I need to find some time to practice in private so I stop sprouting feathers at random intervals without warning._

_I almost started a fire yesterday too, so I know I really need to find some time to meditate and work on my control some more. I've gotten pretty far with my fire animating, but my opportunities to practice lately have been slim._

_I miss you guys so much. I got another letter from Alexis yesterday. It's no fair that Beauxbatons actually has a class on elemental magic! I'd probably be top of the class when it came to fire wielding. Of course it's no surprise that Alexis is top in his elementals class already, especially considering they've only done fire so far. Why don't we have something like that here? _

_Ron had been pestering me about all my letters again. I'm sure Hermione would be too if she wasn't so insanely busy. I still don't know how she's managing to take all these classes at once. Did I tell you she dropped Divination? She stuck with it longer than I did, but she apparently blew up at Trelawney and walked out in the middle of a class. I wish I was there to see it. She's still taking an outrageous number of classes, though, several of which are in the same time slot. I have no idea how she's doing that. _

_In any case, I suspect her ludicrous schedule is the only reason she hasn't picked up on all the owls I've been getting, or else she would have been pestering me with questions too. I've told all of the family owls to make sure to deliver my letters when I'm alone and that's helped a lot with Ron's questions. I was able to make a few excuses and he believed them easily enough._

_I do feel bad about that though._

_Tell Noemie Happy Birthday for me! I hate that I can't be there. I owl-ordered her something, but I'm not sure if it'll get there in time. Let her know that something is coming though. I haven't forgotten her!_

– –

_October 16__th__, 1993_

_Papy Luc,_

_Classes are going great. Sorry if I forgot to mention in my last letter, but yes, you were right, it really is so much easier now! I have no words to express how thankful I am that that god-awful binding is gone!_

_Oh, and what you suggested worked. I've offered to help Professor Lupin set up for the practical lesson he's giving the first years on Monday, so I'll have all Sunday afternoon to try and squeeze some information out of him, and see what I can work out from his reactions to what I've planned to say._

_I can't help but wonder about him though. I mean, from what you said he was one of my father's best friends, and he and my mum were incredibly close their last two years at Hogwarts, but so far he's treated me just like any other student..._

– –

_Oct. 17__th_

_Mon Herry,_

_I wouldn't be surprised at all if Dumbledore told Lupin not to approach you. Especially if he knows that Lupin is aware of your mother's heritage._

_In other news, would you believe that Adelle is still mopeing about you and Alexis being gone? The only time she ever perks up is when either of you send a letter. Hint, hint._

– –

_October 18__th__, 1993_

_Papy Luc,_

_Well, I've decided I'm definitely not going to be telling Professor Lupin about you or the family. I just don't think I can trust him. I think that I've been really lucky so far that Dumbledore didn't realize I wasn't at the Dursley's this last summer. I'm not sure that luck will hold if I talk with Lupin about my Veela ancestry again._

_Anyway, I helped him with setting up for his class, like I told you I'd planned, and I took the __opportunity to make a few subtle statements to see how he'd react. I asked him if it was normal for someone who is my age to still have bursts of accidental magic, and he thought that was a bit unusual, but not unheard of if a lot of stress or emotional turmoil was involved. He asked what sort of accidental magic things were happened and I mentioned fire. He just frowned and __looked__ at me for a long time. I think he also tried to subtly sniff me after that, but he never once actually mentioned to me about mum being a Veela._

_I did ask him about mum too. I told him that Hagrid had contacted a bunch of people back in my first year and collected an album of photos of my parents and gave it to me for Christmas, and that I was looking through it again recently and saw a picture in it of him with my parents. He did at least admit to having been friends with both of my parents. If he'd denied that, I wouldn't have trusted the man with anything again, that's for sure._

_I hope that he doesn't run off to Dumbledore and mention anything I said to him about the fire and such. I don't want to think about what he might do if he realizes that his binding spell isn't working anymore._

_In other news, I got an O on that test in Transfiguration! Hermione is finally starting to notice how much my class work has improved. I don't think she quite knows what to make of that, actually._

_Oh, and I wrote to Adelle, so hopefully that will ….._

– –

_October 31__st __, 1993_

_Papy Luc,_

_You won't believe this! Okay, it's almost midnight and I'm sitting in the Great Hall along with everyone else in Gryffindor. When we all got back to the common room after the Halloween Feast, the Fat Lady – that's the portrait that guards the entrance to Gryffindor Tower – was gone from her frame, and the canvas was all slashed up. When the Headmaster finally found her hiding out in one of the other paintings, she said that Sirius Black had tried to break into the common room and when she wouldn't let him in, he attacked her painting. The teachers are all searching the castle right now._

_There are rumors going about that Black is after __me__, specifically. Something about him being one of Voldemort's inner circle or something, and so he'd want revenge. It would be just my luck if that were the case, though._

_Oh! And I'd almost forgotten with everything else, but today was the first Hogsmeade trip visit. The permission slip you signed recognized that it was signed by my legal guardian, like you said it would, so that wasn't a problem, but McGonagall still spent an extra long time looking at it, and then looking at me suspiciously. I was so scared she was going to notice that glamour spell or whatever it was to make it look like the name said Vernon Dursley, but she didn't say anything and let me go. _

_Anyway, it was brilliant. I got a bunch of British wizard sweets for all the kids that I'm going to be sending off to to everyone. Maybe you could send me some sweets from Iledevol or maybe from Paris, the next time you and bonne-maman are there? Especially if you get any of those CaramaBars? Anyway, I'm sure that the kids will like some of the sweets they have here. Geffroi and Sebastien will especially love the package I'm sending them from this placed called Zonko's. _

_I should cut this short. Some of the others are starting to get annoyed by my lumos spell. I'll write again right away if I hear any more about Black._

_Harry_

– –

_November 5th__, 1993_

_Papy Luc,_

_Tonight's the Full Moon and Lupin wasn't in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not that I'm surprised of course. What sucks is that Snape was the one who subbed for him. Not sure if I've really mentioned him before, but he __hates__ me, and the feeling is mutual. He was a real prat about substituting for Professor Lupin though. He had us skip seven chapters ahead in the textbook to the section on werewolves and has everyone writing a thirteen inch essay on identifying them. Is he trying to get Professor Lupin fired? I hope nothing happens to Lupin. I may not trust him with my secrets, but he's still the best Defense Professor I've had here._

_In any case, it's pretty obvious that Snape is in-the-know about what Professor Lupin is, and obviously holds a grudge or something. Of course everyone has always said that Snape wants the Defense Post. Maybe he's jealous that Professor Lupin has got it while he's stuck teaching Potions._

_Tomorrow is the first Quidditch Match of the season. The weather today is AWFUL. I hope it improves before the game tomorrow. I hate flying in the rain. It's always so hard to see with my glasses getting all wet and sometimes even frosted over from the chill in the air and all the wind._

_And before I forget – Tell mamie thank you for the CaramaBars! I wasn't expecting to get some right away like that! I also heard back from Geffroi and ….._

– –

_November 7th__, 1993_

_Papy Luc,_

_I guess I'll just come right out and let you know that I'm writing from the Hospital Wing. It was awful. Last night during our game against Slytherin the Dementors came onto the pitch and some of them swarmed me. I fainted again, which is just humiliating, really, and I fell off my broom. I HATE that they effect me so badly! No one else has fainted from the stupid ruddy things! And what's worse, my broom ended up falling into the Whomping Willow and it was totally destroyed._

_Malfoy actually caught me when I was falling, which is kind of shocking. I was so high in the sky when the Dementors swarmed me and I passed out, if I'd fallen all the way to the ground I'd probably be dead. Does this mean I owe him a Life Debt now? That's what one of my housemates said. That's a scary prospect... Although he has been better this year since I saved him from getting mauled by that Hippogriff. I doubt he would have died from that though, so I don't think this makes us even. I definitely would have died from this._

_Stupid dementors! I hate this! When I get too near one I hear screaming. I think it's my mum's voice. I think I'm remembering the night it all happened. When she died? I hear her begging and crying. It's awful._

_Damn, Madam Pomfrey is coming. I've got to go._

_Love, Harry_

– –

_November 8th, 1993_

_Mon Harry,_

_This is outrageous and totally unforgivable. I have already lodged a formal complaint against Minister Fudge for his disgusting disregard for the student's safety. I had no idea those monstrous things were still at the school! How are you doing now? Was anything injured? Do you need me to come to the school? I don't care if Dumbledore finds out about our relationship. I will see to your needs and safety! _

_And do not worry about your broom. I will get you a new one. We can go shopping for one as soon as you come home for the holidays._

_I can not say for sure, but it is entirely possible that you may now owe a life debt to the young Mr. Malfoy. Have you spoken to him since the incident? _

_I will be … _

– –

_November 12th, 1993_

_Papy Luc,_

_I haven't talked to Malfoy face-to-face in ages, actually. The closest I've gotten are when I happened to walk in on when he and Ron were fighting. As soon as I show up Malfoy ends the fight, looks at me with this weird expression, and then leaves. I was unconscious when he saved me after I fainted from the Dementors, so I don't remember it at all. I woke up in the Hospital Wing afterwards and I wouldn't have known Malfoy had anything to do with it at all if it weren't for Ron and Hermione filling me in on what happened._

_I tried to approach him today to thank him, but the hall got swarmed with people and then he was gone. I'm not sure what's going on there. It's weird._

_Oh, in other news, the Dementors have all vanished from school grounds. I'm not sure if that's your doing, or Dumbledore's. The word is that he went ballistic when those Dementors swarmed me on the pitch. _

_I got another letter from Alexis and I keep getting more and more jealous! I cannot believe the classes he gets to take as a first year! I'm pretty sure, at this point, that if I ever did legitimately consider transferring to Beauxbatons, I'd have to do a year over just because I'd be so far behind in the courses. I thought that Hogwarts was supposed to be the best of the best or some such rubbish? Maybe it's just the 'best in Britain', and that's only because it's the __only__ school in Britain. _

_You know, before this year, I never seriously questioned whether or not the Hogwarts curriculum was up to snuff, but now I'm really starting to think about it and it's got me honestly worried. I mean, History is a joke. Did I tell you that it's taught by a ghost? He talks in a monotone and reads out of the oldest and driest history text ever written, and most of it is about the Goblin Rebellions. Potions is worthless simply because Snape has got to be the most awful teacher ever, right next to the dead guy teaching history, and he clearly HATES teaching, so I really don't get why he's even here. And each year we get a different defense professor and the best one so far has been a werewolf. _

_Honestly, it's kind of pathetic._

_And that's not even taking into account how often I've nearly died here._

– –

_December 11th__, 1993_

_Papy Luc,_

_On Monday McGonagall posted the sign-up sheet in the common room for people who are staying behind during the winter holidays. Obviously, I didn't put my name down, and no one noticed... until today. McGonagall actually came to me today to remind me that I needed to put my name down if I'm staying, so I told her I wasn't. She definitely looked surprised, but didn't actually come out and ask me anything else about my holiday plans._

_Instead she told me that 'it had been decided for my own safety', of course, that I wouldn't be allowed to go to the next Hogsmeade weekend! What Rubbish! They're not holding anyone else back at the school, and there's no real evidence at all that Black is after me specifically! And even if he was, how likely is it that he'd attack me in broad daylight surrounded by dozens of other Hogwarts students!_

_I haven't seen any Dementors in a while, but I've heard that they're still occasionally seen floating around the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Even if they do stay away from Hogwarts, I'm still not comfortable sitting around and doing nothing about how strongly they effect me. I approached Professor Lupin and asked him if there was anything I could do against them and he offered to try teaching me a spell that repels them. He said we couldn't start private lessons until after the break, though._

_Anyway, Ron just got back from his shower so I'd better end this one. I'll write again in a week unless something interesting happens._

_Harry_

– –

_December 18th__, 1993_

_Papy Luc,_

_I wasn't planning on writing again so soon, what with the Hogwarts Express leaving tomorrow morning. Chances are, I'll see you in person before you even get this, but I needed to write it down to try and sort through all the thoughts in my head. I'm not even sure where to start. _

_So today was the last Hogsmeade trip of the year – the one I told you that McGonagall said I wasn't allowed to go to? Well the Weasley Twins took me aside just as everyone else was leaving and gave me this incredible map that lists a bunch of secret passages that exit the school. One of them goes directly to Hogsmeade, so I took my invisibility cloak and snuck out into town. I met up with Ron and Hermione and we wandered around town and bought a bunch of sweets and things and then ended up in the Three Broomsticks. All of a sudden, Cornelius Fudge enters the pub with Hagrid, McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick. I still had my cloak and I hid under the table and sort of... well, I eavesdropped on them. They were talking about Sirius Black and... _

_First off, do you know what a Fidelus ward or... something like that, is? They explained it because Hagrid didn't know what it was, but apparently it was some sort of spell that was supposed to provide ultimate protection for me and my parents from discovery, by sealing the secret of where we were hiding inside the heart of someone they trusted. That person is called a secret keeper, and the only way to reveal the secret is if the secret keeper tells you. According to McGonagall, Sirius Black was my parents secret keeper, and the only way for Voldemort to have found us that night is if Sirius Black told him. He betrayed us. It wasn't just a matter of him betraying the war and his friends and their ideals – he __specifically betrayed us.__ He's the reason that Voldemort was able to get to us. He's the reason they're dead._

_I just... I don't know what to feel. I don't know what to think. I'm just so angry. I could just SCREAM!_

_I can't wait to see you guys tomorrow. I miss you all so much._

_Harry_

– –

"You know, Harry, I'm still surprised that you're going home for the holidays," Hermione hedged innocently as she flipped through the pages of the book she was 'reading'. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express and had been occupying themselves for the last few hours with light discussion, games, and then with Ron and Harry comparing chocolate frog cards after the trolly lady had come by and they'd gotten another mass of sweets from her.

Harry had been wondering when this would finally be brought up again, so he wasn't surprised in the least. He'd honestly been surprised it had taken her this long to begin her interrogation. The subject had come up a few times since McGonagall had posted the sign-up sheet for those remaining behind at the school for the holidays. Ron and Hermione had, of course, assumed he'd be staying just like the previous two years, and had made the off-hand offers to remain behind with him. He had then informed them that he wasn't staying behind at all, and it would be silly for them to remain behind when they both had families that would love to see them. Both had been shocked to learn Harry intended to go home for the holidays, but it was also clear that neither knew quite how to question him on the subject since the Dursley's had always been a very sore topic for him.

It just wasn't something that they _talked_ about. He suspected that both of his friends had various suspicions as to his muggle relatives, although he also believed that both of them were naïve enough in such things that neither fully thought through the full possibilities or implications of his treatment at the Dursley's hands. Just they same, they knew it was a sore enough subject that they didn't come out and _ask questions_. And since Harry hadn't come out and offered any explanations for his choice to go home, neither was quite sure how to dig for details on the whole thing.

Harry looked up from the Quidditch magazine he was reading and gave her a blank sort of look, wondering how she would proceed.

"Um... are you sure you're going to be... _safe_ there?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

Harry paused in thought for a moment. He wasn't sure if she was referring to 'safe from Sirius Black', or 'safe from the Dursley's'. Maybe she even meant both, but he didn't think she'd actually connected the dots far enough to question his safety in the hands of the Dursley's. After all, Hermione had near unquestionable faith in the Headmaster, and surely Dumbledore would never send Harry back there if he wasn't safe. The thought left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth, but he could hardly blame her since he'd had the same unwavering faith in the man up until this last summer.

Harry had been wavering recently on his decision not to tell his friends about his family. It had been so hard keeping it all hidden from them, mostly because he really wanted to be able to talk to them about some of the things that had made him so happy or excited in regards to his new extended family. He'd always shared those things that made him happy with his two closest friends and he felt like all the secrets were going to eventually drive a wedge between them, and Harry really didn't want that to happen. At the same time, he'd been keeping it secret for so long at this point, he had no idea how to broach the subject now.

His eyes slid down to the bit of golden chain that was sticking out from under her collar. After a few letters mentioning Hermione's impossible timetables, his grandfather Luc had suggested the possibility that the girl had been given a time-turner to use, so Harry had been watching her more closely than ever, and was fairly positive at this point that his grandfather was right.

Lucas had said it was quite an honor to be trusted with such a device and spoke highly of how much trust her sponsor must have in her. Harry figured the sponsor was probably Professor McGonagall, and Harry knew that McGonagall adored Hermione, even if the strict, overly-fair professor preferred not to show it too publicly.

Still, Harry was surprised that Hermione had been allowed to keep the Time-turner over the holidays.

Well, Harry had been keeping secrets, but so had Hermione, so maybe he could use that as some leverage to lessen some of the blow. Besides, he didn't entirely feel safe talking about certain things while within Hogwarts. The train was another issue, though.

Pulling forth his courage Harry decided that if he was going to do this, he'd do it now. If he kept the secret too much longer, it would only hurt them more when they finally found out.

"Can I tell you two a secret?" Harry said in a quiet voice. Ron instantly dropped the Quidditch magazine he'd been reading, with obvious interest in his eyes. Hermione stopped any pretense of reading her book as well and sat up a bit straighter.

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door to their compartment. He spoke two different charms, one that would lock the door, and another that put up a bubble of silence around them. Hermione's eyes widened at the use of two spells that definitely had not been taught in their classes. She knew the locking one, but that was because she read ahead so much. The other one was a mystery to her.

"Where'd you learn those spells?" Hermione gasped.

"Er... well that's part of the secret, I guess," Harry said with a nervous laugh as he ran his hand through his hair messing it up even more than usual.

Ron and Hermione shared a look for a moment before looking back at Harry. "Talk," Hermione said.

"First off, I don't want you too getting angry with me for keeping this secret for as long as I have. It was necessary and it's not like I'm the only one keeping secrets."

Ron looked confused by that statement, but Hermione's eyes widened slightly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked innocently with a touch of defensive worry.

"I'm talking about the golden chain around your neck and how you've been attending Arithmancy at the same time as Muggle Studies, and how you were taking Ancient Runes at the same time as Divination until you finally dropped Trelawney's class," Harry said giving her a pointed look.

She gasped and her hand came up to her chest, probably to the same place where the time-turner was hidden beneath her shirt. "How do you know!"

"Wait, you know how she's doing that?" Ron asked, turning his curios gaze on Harry.

"It's supposed to be a secret! I'm not supposed to tell anyone! How did you figure it out?" Hermione asked Harry.

"Well, there aren't exactly a lot of possible explanations for a person repeatedly being in two different places at the same time," Harry said reasonably.

"What are you two talking about!" Ron whined in annoyance.

"But how would you even _know_?" Hermione persisted at Harry, ignoring Ron for the moment. "Hardly anyone even knows about them!"

"Knows about _What_!" Ron exclaimed.

"Hermione's got a Time-Turner," Harry said.

"A whut?" Ron said, blinking in confusion.

"It's a small magical device that lets you go back in time. They usually have a limit of no more than a day because it takes a tremendous amount of magical power to go back in time and create continuity loops instead of introducing paradoxes."

"Huh?" Ron said, looking totally bewildered now.

"How do you _know that?"_ Hermione exclaimed, looking at Harry with shock.

"My Grandfather told me."

Hermione and Ron gaped at him in stunned silence.

"That's _my_ secret," Harry pressed on. "It's also why I'm on this train. I'm not going to the Dursley's. I'm going to be staying with my Grandfather and family."

"Your grandfather?" Hermione gasped in excited confusion. "But... who? I thought all of your grandparents were dead?"

"So did I, but it turns out that my mum... well, she wasn't a muggleborn after all. She was a half-blood. My aunt Petunia is her _half-_sister. They had the same mother, but not the same father. Apparently my Grandmother Rosie had an affair while her husband was out of the country for most of the year after she had Petunia. The man she had the affair with was magical – my _real_ grandfather – and he found me this summer and I went and lived with he and his family."

"Oh my god, Harry! That's incredible!" Hermione exclaimed. Her expression went closed all of a sudden and she looked at him worriedly. "Are you sure it's safe? Can he be trusted?"

Harry snorted is distaste. "He's a thousand times more trustworthy and safe than staying with the Dursley's."

"But how come he didn't come for you until now?" Ron asked.

"He tried and tried to get in contact with me before, but couldn't. After my parents died, he went through a ton of trouble and red-tape to try and find out what had happened to me. He got shuffled around for most of the first year until he _finally_ managed to find out that Dumbledore had been labeled as magical proxy for my guardians, and contacted him. Dumbledore lied to him and said that I'd been placed where my parent's will had dictated and that my mother hadn't wanted him to get involved. Dumbledore refused to tell my grandfather where I was '_for my safety'_. After I started Hogwarts, he started trying to get a hold of me again, but all of his letters were redirected and I never got a single one of them. We found out that Dumbledore has put a Sieve spell on my mail. Everything gets sorted before it comes to me and a huge chunk of it gets burned or stored somewhere I'll never find it. The sieve spell only works while I'm in Britain though because over the summer I got all my mail for the first time and it was crazy how much of it I get."

"Wait, you weren't in England over the summer?" Ron asked.

"No, my grandfather lives in France."

"France?" Ron echoed in surprise.

Hermione was looking decidedly upset, but Harry suspected it had nothing to do with the revelation about France.

"Harry..." she began hesitantly, frowning deeply, "How can you be sure about... I mean, you said that the headmaster _lied_ to your grandfather, and you make it sound like he's been stealing your mail, but..." she shook her head in disbelief and frustration.

"That's because that's what he's done," Harry growled slightly.

"But... well, maybe he was just doing all of that to protect you, you know? Surely there was a reason to do those things. He wouldn't just..."

"Oh _sure_, there are excuses," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "His Sieve on my mail is legal because it's to protect me from any cursed letters, or objects sent to me that are secretly portkeys, but over the summer we just had someone checking through the letters each morning – it only took a minute or two, it's not like I really get that much mail – to sort between anything potentially dangerous."

"But in the beginning – you know, right after your parents died – there was probably a lot more mail. Surely they couldn't be expected to sort it all," Hermione argued hesitantly.

"Sure, you could argue that, but how come control over the Sieve was never handed over to me? It was supposed to be. The Magical Bureau for the Management of Owl Post, _supposedly_ sent me pamphlets and forms when I started at Hogwarts so I could control my 'approved senders list' on my own, but I never got any such letters. Dumbledore kept it _hidden_ from me so he could maintain control over the list himself. He's even edited the list several times over the last few years; adding the two of you and all of the Weasley's to it."

"He's just managing it for you so you don't have to worry about it," Hermione said, still not sounding entirely sure about her own argument.

"And what about my Grandfather? What about lying to him?" Harry said.

"Well how could Dumbledore know he could trust your grandfather? He probably had _loads_ of people offering to take you in after... _it _all happened," Ron said then. "Besides, you said it took your grandfather nearly a year to get a hold of Dumbledore. He probably thought you were settled in at the Dursley's by then. Plus there's those blood ward things that you've mentioned before..."

"Right after Dumbledore dumped me on the Dursley's doorstep, Petunia wrote him a letter telling him that they didn't want me," Harry said coldly. "When he insisted that I had to be with blood relatives for the _blood wards_ to work, and she and Dudley were my only blood relatives left, she wrote back and told him that my biological grandfather was just as much a blood relative as she was and that if he was still alive I should go to him because they wanted nothing to do with me. Dumbledore wrote back and said that my grandfather was dead, but I don't think he ever even _looked_ for him."

Hermione and Ron both looked stunned and unsettled.

"And when my grandfather finally did get a hold of him, expressing an interest in taking me in – and this is after, Petunia had made it _clear_ that she wanted nothing to do with me – Dumbledore still insisted that I was where my mum wanted me. Personally, I really really doubt that. And the argument that I had to stay with a blood relative is moot since I could easily be with my grandfather and my cousins and be surrounded by blood relatives."

"But why would Dumbledore keep you from family that wanted you, to leave you with people who obviously didn't? It doesn't make any sense!" Hermione said, shaking her head and looking miserable and confused.

Harry frowned, looking down for a moment before proceeding. "I think part of it might be because he wanted to keep me in Britain," Harry said slowly. "Like I said, Papy Luc lives in France. The whole family is there. They're all... _wonderful._ I was only with them for two and a half months and it was so hard to leave. My cousin Alexis started his first year at Beauxbatons this year and hearing about the school, and seeing it in person at the end of August... well I can say for a fact that if I'd grown up with Papy Luc, I'd be attending Beauxbatons right now. Not Hogwarts. I'd have no reason to even set foot in Britain."

"But that's no excuse for placing you with the Dursley's when they'd made it clear that they didn't want you!" Hermione exclaimed, obviously growing angry on his behalf now.

Harry snorted. "You're telling me?" Harry heaved a sigh and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "Papy Luc thinks that there was probably a prophecy or something related to me that was driving some of Dumbledore's actions."

"A prophecy?" Hermione echoed incredulously as she twisted up her face in obvious dislike of the subject she already held so little respect for. "Why would he think that?"

"My grandfather... erm... well, it's quite a bit more complicated than I've gotten into so far, but lets just say that he's in a very powerful position. He has access to information that a lot of people don't, and there are seers who work for the the family who foretold some things that could theoretically be associated with what happened to me and my parents. He says that when one Seer 'sees' something, there's always others who 'see' similar things. If it's a real prophetic thing, there's always more than one Seer that sees it. He figures if their Seers saw it, then Seers in Britain no doubt saw something too, _especially_ since it was a British issue. Dumbledore's actions are too fishy and coincidental for them to not be connected to any of these prophecy-type things."

"Prophecy," Hermione scoffed derisively, sticking her nose a bit into the air with obvious distaste. "So what does this have to do with him keeping you with your muggle relatives?"

"Papy Luc figures that whatever prophecy was foretold here in Britain must not be complete yet. The stuff that his Seers saw really only involved the last war and my er... defeat or whatever, of Voldemort when I was a baby. But Dumbledore must think that he's got some reason for wanting to keep me in Britain, so there's probably more to whatever he's heard. That's what my aunt Lucienne thinks, anyway. In any case, it's obvious to the family that Dumbledore has gone to great lengths to keep us apart, and that's why we've kept it secret so far that we've found each other. Papy Luc has actually gone through all of the behind-the-scenes legalities of getting my custody transferred to him, but since my placement with the Dursley's was kept secret, even from the Ministry, the transfer has been quiet enough that no one has noticed yet."

"You don't think that Dumbledore would try to take you away from them now, do you?" Hermione gasped.

Harry just shrugged and shook his head sadly. "I have no idea. I don't know what to think about him now. I've definitely lost a lot of faith in the man. I know for a fact that he _knew_ about how badly the Dursley's were treating me – at least to some extent. Before I thought that maybe he was just blind to it and honestly hadn't _known_. I could forgive him for leaving me with them if he honestly didn't realize what they were doing to me, but I know for a fact now that he came to their house when I was five after some accidental magic caused a fire in their house. He fixed the damage, which included repairing the boot cupboard where they'd lock me away, so he had to _know_ about it. He also _obliviated_ me and cast a binding ritual on me to lock away some of my magic so I wouldn't be causing any more fires."

Hermione gasped in horror, and Ron made a squeaking sort of noise and suddenly went _very_ pale.

"But that's illegal!" Hermione hissed.

Harry snorted derisively. "And knowingly leaving a defenseless child with abusive caretakers isn't illegal?" Harry heaved another great sigh and shook his head. "I... I don't know what to think or how to feel about him anymore. It's all just too much still. For now, I'm just going to spend my holidays with my family, and try to be careful. He'll eventually find out, I'm sure of that. Whenever he does, we'll see how he responds. If he tries to take me away from them, then that's it. I will never trust him again, and I'll probably transfer to Beauxbatons."

"Oh Harry!" Hermione gasped, shaking her head.

"Beauxbatons?" Ron exclaimed.

"I can't stay at Hogwarts if I can't trust the Headmaster with my safety, and it's already a pretty iffy thing. I mean, I'm in my third year and how many times have I almost died at Hogwarts? First there was the troll, and Quirrell hexing my broom, and then Quirrel-mort himself – granted it was my own fault for going after the stone, but the man never should have been allowed to get into the school _at all!_ And second year with the petrifications and the Basilisk! Oh, and we mustn't forget about the Dementors this year," Harry ended sarcastically.

Hermione was nodding along with him and looking entirely defeated. "You do seem to be a danger magnet."

"But you can't leave Hogwarts!" Ron exclaimed.

"I don't want to, Ron. Not really. But how can I stay at Hogwarts, if I can't trust the Headmaster?"

"Surely he had to have some... some _reasons_ to do the things he did," Hermione said weakly shaking her head and looking lost and horrified.

"That's why Papy and aunt Lucienne think it's something to do with a prophecy or something. We figure Dumbledore must honestly believed that it's of some dire importance or else he wouldn't feel justified in what's he's done. But that doesn't make it okay. And that doesn't mean I'm willing to just go along with it, or forgive him for trying to use me and continually keeping me in danger. He kept me away from my _family_. From people who _wanted me. _People who are _really_ really nice. They're wonderful and I've grown to really care about all of them, and they legitimately care about me. I've _never had that_ before, and that's _Dumbledore's_ _fault. _ What's more, he sealed away a part of my magic – a part of who I am, and if it weren't for Papy Luc bringing in a specialist to break the binding, it'd still be that way."

Dawning suddenly flashed in Hermione's eyes. "That's why you've been doing so much better in class!" she gasped. "Oh, Harry! This is horrible! It was seriously impacting your magical performance before! How could he _do_ that?"

"You'd think that if you're part of some sort of prophecy, he wouldn't want to screw up your magic," Ron said incredulously.

"I can't even pretend to understand Dumbledore's logic," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Besides, we clearly don't have all the pertinent information," Hermione pointed out thoughtfully. "All of this prophecy stuff is just speculation anyway. We don't really know anything for sure, do we?"

"Not really. I only know what he did to me. I don't _know_ any of his reasons or motives, only what we've guessed or pieced together as possible explanations," Harry said with a shrug.

The trio fell quiet for several long minutes after that, as each one thought through what all had been revealed. Hermione looked the most upset, while Ron just looked really confused and generally unhappy.

"You guys realize that you can't tell anyone about this, right?" Harry asked finally. Hermione looked up and blinked at him blankly for a second. "You can see how important it is that he not find out right?"

"I don't know, Harry..." Hermione said, shaking her head.

Harry gave her a pointed look and she quickly put her hands up in a placating gesture. "I won't tell," she said quickly. "I'm just saying that I'm not sure that keeping your arrangement a secret is really the best idea. I mean, like we all said, we have no idea what the Headmaster's motives were. Maybe if you just _asked him_ why, he would tell you. If he wasn't keeping secrets from you, it'd be better right? You said you don't want to leave Hogwarts, and if getting you to Hogwarts was the reason he didn't want you going to France, then, well I guess he's already gotten what he wanted. If you just _talked_ maybe there wouldn't be anymore trouble. Surely he'd realize that you would leave if he upset you and tried to keep you and your family apart now, right? Well, as long as he keeps you happy, you'll stay at Hogwarts right?"

"Theoretically. I can't make any promises. I can't say for sure what might end up making me need to leave. But you see, as long as I've got family in France, I have _somewhere else to go_. I think that's what Dumbledore might have a problem with. With just the Dursley's, there was literally no one to turn to _except for Dumbledore himself._ Which, I suspect wasn't an accident. I don't think he wanted me to have anywhere to turn to that wasn't him. I think he even instructed Professor Lupin not to approach me or tell me how close he was to my parents because then I might see him as someone I could turn to."

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"He was one of my Dad's best friends – they were roommates at Hogwarts for seven years, and the last two years of school, he and my mum became really close friends too. He was at their wedding; he was there _when I was born_. He was one of their closest friends for more than a decade, and yet he's treated me just as professionally and distant as any other student, and I think it's because Dumbledore told him to keep his distance."

"But you don't _know_ that, Harry," Hermione insisted. "You're just making guesses. You can't know any of this stuff for sure unless you actually speak to him. I just can't believe that the headmaster would be so underhanded."

"Yeah, Harry," Ron pitched in, "I mean he's _Albus Dumbledore_. He's supposed to be the greatest wizard of our age!"

"That doesn't mean he's infallible," Harry said pointedly. "Something that my Papy said to me that made a lot of sense was that because of all that Dumbledore is renowned for, everyone has all these expectations about him. People expect him to solve all these problems – even the Minister of Magic is said to always be pestering Dumbledore with questions and asking for his advice. Dumbledore defeated Grindlewald and everyone expected him to be the one that dealt with Voldemort during the last war. Everyone _expected_ him to do something, and with people's expectations would come the belief that he has to meet those expectations. That he _had_ to do whatever was necessary, to save Britain. Under that kind of pressure, he could easily think that sacrificing my happiness and safety was worth it in the end. I just happen to disagree with him on that point."

"Well, of course!" Hermione said indignantly. Ron was looking incredibly torn and confused.

"But what if there _is_ a prophecy and Harry really _is_ the only one who could stop You-Know-Who for good?" Ron worried.

Hermione harrumphed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest. "That's just absurd, Ron! It's because people put faith in ridiculous prophecies and divination things instead of a little common sense that nonsense like this happens! Harry is thirteen! It is entirely unreasonable for people to expect _him_ to save them from You-Know-Who!"

Conversation was stilted for a while after that, but it wasn't all that long before they reached London. Harry got promises from both Hermione and Ron that they wouldn't tell _anyone_ about what he'd told them. He also asked that, even when they got back to Hogwarts, that they'd avoid discussing it in the halls or classrooms. Harry wasn't entirely confident in his privacy within the halls – what with living paintings, ghosts and poltergeists, you never knew who was listening, when, or where.

Hermione did express her disappointment that Harry had kept this secret from them all first term, but Harry was quick to remind her about her time-turner, she flushed, and conceded he had a point.

– –


	3. When One Enjoys Time With Family

AN: I had a few questions as to whether or not this was going to be one of those spontaneous fated mate fics, and I'd have to say mostly the answer is 'no'.

Chapter 3 – When One Enjoys Time With Family

After arriving at Kings Cross Station, Harry tracked down his trunk and managed to get it onto a trolly along with Hedwig's cage. Mrs. Weasley found the trio first and was quite surprised to see Harry there. Mr. Weasley was with her and while his wife tried to get all of her children and their luggage gathered into a semblance of order Mr. Weasley tried to subtly lure Harry to the side by one of the large concrete pillars.

Harry followed him curiously and feeling no small amount of trepidation. The red-headed man mentioned to Harry what he'd heard about Black trying to get into Gryffindor Tower, warned Harry about Black, and asked Harry to promise him that he wouldn't go _looking_ for Black. Harry blanched for a moment as he suddenly realized that Mr. Weasley must have known about how Sirius Black had been his family's secret keeper. Deciding to just come out and ask, he told Mr. Weasley what he'd heard about that very subject, while leaving out exactly how he'd overheard such a thing.

Mr. Wealsey sighed heavily but nodded his head and confirmed that it was true. Black had been Harry's father's best friend; his best man; Harry's _godfather_. And he had betrayed them. BUT – the man was dangerous, and Harry was only thirteen! It was not his job to hunt down and exact revenge against a murdering lunatic who was, even after all these years, still apparently powerful enough to somehow escape Azkaban. He repeated, but more sternly and insistent this time, that Harry _promise_ that he not try and go after Black. Harry's life was more important than revenge. Leave catching Black to the authorities, and _stay safe_.

Harry made the promise, but didn't exactly believe himself, even. He needed more time to think about this. It was still too much.

When they returned to the group, that now included Ginny, the twins, and Percy, as well as all of the luggage, Harry heard Ron bemoaning the ill health of his rat to his mum, noting the increased stress the 'poor thing' was enduring, while he shot dirty glares at Hermione who was standing to the side with her parents, and holding Crookshanks in her arms. Harry rolled his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley took that moment to focus on Harry and ask him where his relatives were, causing Harry to freeze up a bit.

He told her that they couldn't get through the barrier so they'd be on the muggle side of the barrier, but that they'd probably be late since they didn't want to get caught in a large crowd of 'our lot'. Mrs. Weasley shared a _look_ with her husband, and then said that they'd just have to stay and wait with him until they showed up.

Harry felt his stomach drop and looked desperately to Ron and Hermione.

It was Hermione who saved the day, saying that she and her parents could wait with Harry instead, since they would stand out less on the muggle side of King's Cross. Hermione's parents shrugged and said that they weren't in a huge rush, and could wait. It took a bit more convincing since it appeared that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley thought it important that Harry have some _magical_ backup to watch after him, but eventually they were convinced to leave and Ron and his red-headed family left.

Harry heaved a relieved sigh as they disappeared through the archway and sent a thankful look at Hermione who just smiled exasperatedly back at him.

It was only five more minutes before Harry's grandfather Lucas popped into the apparition zone along the back wall of the platform. Harry spotted him almost instantly and ran up to him and gave him a hug. By this point, almost everyone had cleared out anyway and Harry was just so excited to see the man he couldn't stop himself.

He ended up dragging his grandfather over to the Grangers and introducing Hermione and her parents. Being muggles and having so much distance from the rest of their world, Harry didn't see a lot of risk in such a thing, and Lucas didn't really disagree – he wanted to meet Harry's friends anyway, and at this point it was more Harry's choice that was keeping their relationship more secret than not.

Harry noticed that both Mrs. Granger and Hermione's eyes got a little glazed when shaking his grandfather's hand. While the Grangers spoke with him for a minute, Harry and Hermione ran back to get Harry's luggage and Hedwig. As the pair were walking back Harry looked over and noticed Hermione blushing and looking down at the ground.

"You okay, Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione's head shot up and she blush seemed to intensify for a moment before she cleared her throat and seemed to pull herself together

"Perfectly fine."

Harry frowned in confusion. "Okay..." he said slowly.

"You're grandfather..."

"Uh huh?"

"He's... he's very good looking, Harry," Hermione said, averting her gaze and flushing a little again. "He certainly doesn't look old enough to be a grandfather."

"Oh!" Harry said in the tone of dawning understanding before chuckling a little. Hermione turned and glared at him mildly, so he muffled his amusement. "That's because he's Veela."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping and gaping at him openly.

"He's Veela!" she gasped.

"Well, more Veela than not. He's got some witches and wizards in his line, of course – his family has interbred with magical humans for generations, but he's got enough Veela in him that he's basically considered just a Veela."

"Wait, Harry! Does that mean that... that _your_..."

"A quarter Veela. Yeah," Harry said sheepishly with a shrug.

"Merlin!" she whispered.

"Is that bad?" Harry asked, with wariness in his voice, mixed with a tinge of defiance.

"No!" Hermione quickly insisted. "It's just... it's really surprising. You don't really... _look_ like a Veela..." she said hesitantly, taking a step back and eying Harry up and down speculatively.

Harry flushed with embarrassment under her gaze and shifted uncomfortably. "Mamie says that's because my powers were bound away since I was a young child," Harry mumbled. "But the Veela influence will show through more strongly with um... puberty, now that the binding has been removed."

"Oh god! The binding!" Hermione gasped. "That's why he did it! It was to bind your Veela nature! Oh my god, Harry, that's awful!"

Harry's face turned grim and he scowled. "I know," he said, darkly.

"Harry?"

Harry turned his attention back to the adults, and his grandfather who had just called to him. He was looking at Harry expectantly and the Grangers were looking to Hermione.

"Ready to go?"

Harry felt the cloud that had momentarily settled over him at the reminder of Dumbledore's deeds, blown away and he smiled brightly. He was going to spend the holidays with his family.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"The portkey will leave in two minutes so we'd best get ready."

"Oh! Right. Coming!"

Harry quickly got his things gathered – he held onto Hedwig's cage while his grandfather grabbed hold of Harry's trunk. Harry said goodbye to Hermione and wished her a happy holiday while she did the same. They all said their farewells and in no time at all, Harry and his grandfather were being whisked away to France in a swirl of light and color.

– –

"Alexis! Come here, come here! You've gotta see this!"

"What? I'm comin... Hey! No fair! You got _two_ brooms?"

Harry just looked up at him and shrugged helplessly as the two stared down at the package that was presently sitting in Harry's lap, still wrapped in bright red and gold paper. Even wrapped, it was obvious what it was. It was a _broom_ – the shape was simply unmistakable. The thing was that Harry had already gotten a replacement broom. The week prior when the family went to Paris for some last minute holiday shopping, Harry's grandfather Luc had purchased him an Astroflash; the fastest broom available on the french market. And Alexis had been exceedingly jealous.

"Who's it from?" Alexis asked as he rushed over and sat down cross-legged beside Harry.

"That's just the thing – it doesn't say," Harry said, hesitantly.

"Could it be from one of your friends? You didn't tell anyone that papy was getting you a replacement broom, did you?"

"No, I didn't tell anyone, but none of my friends could afford to buy me a broom..." Harry went on hesitantly.

"Hey! You guys aren't starting without us, are you?" came an almost scandalized voice from the other side of the room.

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled as Sebastien, Alexis' younger brother, and Geffroi, their eldest cousin, came barreling into the room.

"No, we're not starting," Harry said. "Well, not _opening_ anything yet, anyway. But I found this in my pile," he held the broom up a bit as the two came and planted themselves on the floor with the other two.

"No way!" Geffroi gasped.

"Another broom?" Sebastien added in confusion.

"Well, it's not like he told anyone that papy was going to be buying him a replacement," Alexis offered with a shrug.

"That's true, but like I said – none of my friends would have gotten me a _broom," _Harry said, shaking his head and looking down at it in confusion. "I can imagine Ron or any of the Weasleys _wanting_ to get me one, but none of them could ever afford a decent broom."

"Well, it could be a _cheap_ broom, you know," Alexis pointed out.

Harry twisted up his face before giving a bodily shrug. "Yeah, I guess that's possible. I'll have to wait until I can open it to find out.

"Wait, so you don't know who it's from?" Geffroi asked, and Harry and Alexis informed the younger two that it had come without any note as to the identity of the sender.

It wasn't long before the rest of their cousins started to filter into the room, followed by their various sets of parents. By the time Harry's papy, Luc, and his wife Aurelie had settled themselves onto one of the loveseats, the children had already set to the task of sorting through the mountain of presents into smaller mounds for each individual child.

Even though Harry had spent the whole summer with the family, and had remained in very regular correspondence with all of them during the last few months, he still found himself shocked, and warmly overwhelmed to see just how many presents his family had gotten him.

There were also presents that had been delivered from his friends back in Britain, of course. A package from Ron, one from Hermione, a package from Mrs. Weasley that was probably a jumper, and a small package from Hagrid. The biggest mystery remained the broom though, and it didn't take long for Harry's cousins to inform his grandparents and aunts that Harry seemed to have received an anonymous gift.

"Well, Harry got several anonymous gifts, actually..." his mamie Aurelie said hesitantly glancing at her husband.

"He did?" Sebastien asked in confusion before looking questioningly back at Harry's pile.

Harry looked too, frowning in confusion as well, since the only present he'd come across without any tag had been the broom.

"Harry gets quite a lot of mail from... well, _fans_, I suppose," Aurelie said gently. "However, he also occasionally gets post from people who do not exactly have his best interests at heart."

"You mean people who are still angry about that Dark Lord nonsense?" Alexis said, sneering and rolled his eyes dramatically to show just how little he thought of such people.

"Well, generally, yes," Mamie Aurelie said with a conceding nod. "Of course that's why we have Morice going through all of the mail sent to Harry to check for any malicious spells and such."

"So the other anonymous gifts were cursed?" Harry said with a sigh.

"Well, not all were cursed. One was a portkey, which of course, is just as dangerous if not more so depending on who sent it and why," papy Luc said.

"But that means the broom is clean, right?" Alexis asked. "I mean, if it got into his pile, that means it didn't have any curses or whatever on it, right?"

"That's correct," Aurelie said with a nod.

"So you think it might be from one of those boy-who-lived fans then?" Geffroi asked, eyeing the still-wrapped package.

"Well, how about you lot just let him open the thing, hmm?" Harry's uncle Leon – Alexis and Sebastien's father, said with an amused smirk.

Harry looked up at papy Luc with a questioning expression. His grandfather nodded and Harry quickly tore into the package, removing the paper in a flurry of excitement. A moment later, all of the boys, and even Harry's uncles gasped.

"A Firebolt!" Alexis whispered with awe.

"Merlin! That's just no fair!" Geffroi whined. "Not only do you have a Astroflash, but now you've got a Firebolt too!"

"Mamma, what's a Firebolt?" Mireille, Geffroi's 4-year old sister asked, tugging at Elodie's sleeve.

Elodie, snorted and gave a dramatic shrug. "Ask your brother."

"It's only the fastest British-made racing broom ever made!" the boy exclaimed excitedly.

"Which one is better? The Astroflash, or the Firebolt?" Harry's aunt Josiane asked her husband Leon.

"That's probably debatable," he mused. "The Firebolt is a _racing_ broom. The Astroflash is a Quidditch broom. The Firebolt is probably faster, but the Astroflash might have better maneuverability. In any case, they're both absolute top of the line. That is a _very_ good broom."

"So it's expensive," mamie Aurelie stated, looking to her husband.

Luc nodded. "_Very_ expensive."

"So a complete stranger anonymously sent Harry the best broom in Britain?" Alexis asked, twisting up his face with confusion and bewilderment.

Harry frowned and looked down at the broom lightly brushing his fingers over the smooth wood finish.

"Your last broom was a Nimbus, right?" Geffroi asked and Harry looked up at him and nodded. "Well, those are pretty expensive too. Did you get it for yourself or did someone buy you that one?"

"Oh... my head of house, Professor McGonagall got it for me," Harry replied.

"Well, maybe that's it," Uncle Crestien said with a nod. "Maybe your teacher got you this one too and just didn't want to be accused of favoritism so she didn't sign her name."

Harry nodded, feeling slightly better about the broom if that were the case. "I'll have to ask them when I get back."

The remainder of Christmas was a flurry of happiness, laughter, good food, and presents. Things got busy so fast that Harry entirely forgot about the mysterious broom until a few days later when he and his cousin Alexis went flying around the manor grounds. Alexis was curious about the brooms, and seeing as how Harry now had _two_ new brooms, they simply switched off testing the two of them, trying to decide which one was better.

Harry still hadn't really decided between the two of them – they were both _brilliant_ – when Alexis decided he was bored with relying on a broom to fly and transformed into his avian form.

Harry still found himself transfixed with the form and the longing once again began to settle in his chest to accomplish the transformation himself. The longing only grew as he watched his cousin fly around, screeching and squealing in delight. Alexis was quite majestic in flight, Harry decided. His cousin had come a long way in a short period of time. He had only just mastered his avian form about a year and a half ago. Even during the summer, when Harry had first met him, Alexis had still been a bit wobbly in flight at times. All awkwardness was now completely gone as the boy soared through the air.

Harry felt his skin prickling and the tell-tale signs of feathers popping out along his shoulders and the back of his neck. It was such a bizarre sensation, but he was getting used to it, as it had started happening nearly any time he got in the air on his broom. He'd been clamping down on the tendency – trying to gain full control over it, since sprouting feathers during quidditch games was just _not_ okay, but he no longer saw any point in holding back seeing as he was home now.

Harry shrugged off his outer robe and, instead of hopping on his broom and joining his cousin in the air as he often did over the summer when Alexis transformed and went flying, Harry crossed his legs and plopped down onto the ground. He closed his eyes and focused on the power of the veela that his tutor had taught him to find, during his lessons over the summer. He focused on the feeling of his feathers popping out and urged more of them out.

After a few minutes he heard the sound of flapping wings and displaced air as his cousin landed on the ground below him, shuffled forward, transformed back, and sat down a few feet to his right.

"Feel the pulse in your chest? It feels... well, it feels _red_ to me. I know that doesn't make sense..." Alexis said in a soft voice, sounding a bit insecure.

"No... no that... that makes sense. It does feel... red," Harry agreed, not quite sure how else to express the strange feeling in any other way either. Describing it as feeling like a _color_ really didn't sound like it made sense, but...

"Right... um... hold onto that. But try to make it turn purple? Does that make sense?"

Harry opened his eyes and blinked at his cousin. He'd never heard it described that way, but for some irrational reason... it made perfect sense. He nodded his head and closed his eyes again, focusing on the sensation, and his efforts to manipulate it.

He felt the sudden _shift_ in the energy inside of him, and it was a shift he'd never experienced before. He gasped as he felt a powerful tingling sensation echo through every one of his limbs, right down to the tips of his fingers and toes.

"Now try shifting," Alexis said in a quiet, but excited voice.

Harry nodded and focused on pushing out the feathers again, but this time there was no resistance. He felt the very texture of his skin changing as feather after feather shot out of his skin along his shoulders, back and neck. His hair felt strange, like he'd stuck a finger in a light socket and it was standing on end, and he felt his arms and legs heating up uncomfortably. His limbs felt pressured, like they were being squeezed, and they were growing hot and anxious.

Harry let out a sudden gasp for air as the energy began to waver back to red and he lost his focus. He sat forward, supporting himself with his hands on the ground in front of him and panting deeply as if he'd just tried to run a marathon.

"Ha ha! Wow, Harry! Have you ever gotten this far before?" Alexis was asking excitedly and Harry managed to gain just enough strength to raise his head and blink blearily at his cousin. He was startled by how intense everything looked.

"Oh Merlin," Harry gasped as he wobbled slightly in his seat, trying to take in the visual overload.

"Is this the first time you transformed your eyes?" Alexis asked.

"Yeah," Harry said with a breathy, stunned voice. "Circe, there's just _so much..._"

"We have four types of color receptors so we can see ultraviolet light. As humans we only have three, so yeah, it's definitely a bit crazy getting used to it," Alexis said grinning widely.

"Especially for me, seeing as how my normal eyes are even defective by human standards," Harry said with a chuckle.

Harry took a moment to examine himself and was startled first when he caught sight of his hands. They were larger, and his skin had become leathery while a scattering of scales now covered the back top of his hand, and his fingernails had started changing in shape, although they didn't quite qualify as talons just yet.

"Stand up! Let's see what else you managed," Alexis said excitedly as he stood up and took a step away to look Harry over.

Harry awkwardly pushed himself up, and had to pause a few times as waves of dizziness overcame him and he had to wait until it had passed enough to continue.

"I'm really dizzy," Harry said, shaking his head and blinking several times.

"Yeah, that's pretty normal for a partial transformation," Alexis said with a dismissive shrug. "The further you get in the transformation, the less your senses will be screwed up."

"Makes sense," Harry nodded and finally got himself fully upright.

"Whoa! Check out your legs! Take off your shirt," Alexis ordered, grinning expectantly.

Harry blinked down and realized that he'd lost his trainers at some point, because his 'feet' were bare, and his shoes were several feet in front of him on the ground, looking worse for wear. He grimaced, but was grateful that they weren't one of his good shoes that his mamie had gotten for him over the summer.

His feet weren't fully transformed, but his bone structure had significantly altered so that his ankle was much higher up, giving part of his lower leg a 'bent back' sort of look. Finally he followed his cousin's ordered instruction and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. Even with it on, he could already tell that he'd started to form a keel, and it was _very_ obvious once the shirt was off. His shoulders were also covered in a thick layer of downy feathers.

"You're neck has gotten thicker too. You've got feathers all the way from your head down to your shoulders," Alexis said, still grinning widely in excitement. "How's your back?"

Harry twisted around and showed his cousin his back while trying to crane his neck around to examine it himself. He was surprised when he was far more successful in that endeavor than he'd expected to be. He realized suddenly that he had a lot more range in the movement of his neck and laughed a bit with his own surprise.

"It looks like your second set of scapula almost completely developed!" Alexis exclaimed. "It's not far from that before you can develop wings!"

Harry smiled widely, letting out another excited laugh, which broke in an awkward way, causing Harry to snap his mouth shut, blinking in confusion.

Alexis snorted and brought a hand up to stifle his snickers.

"What was _that?_" Harry asked, and his voice cracked again along with another weird sort of squawking sound.

"Sounds like your syrinx started to form," Alexis said, still chuckling.

Harry's eyes widened. "That's the avian vocal organ, right?"

"Yup. Looks like you've lucked out a bit though, because your larynx is still working. First time I transformed far enough to get my syrinx, my larynx went with it and all I could manage was some really awful screeching."

"Well I haven't got a beak yet, so it makes sense that my larynx is still there," Harry mused, trying to ignore the weird chittering noises that seemed to come through along with some of his words. It was especially weird because he could feel the sounds coming from somewhere deeper than he was used to. "Was it hard to learn how to speak french using your syrinx?"

"Hard doesn't even begin to cover it," Alexis said seriously. "Our syrinx is even more advanced than a parrots, so it's totally possible to imitate the sounds a mammalian larynx can make, but it's so weird and it took me ages to get used to it."

"You haven't had any trouble since I've known you," Harry said, feeling surprised by this revelation. He'd heard his grandfather speak both french and english while in his avian form, and of course he'd often had conversations with Alexis while the two flew together – Alexis in his full avian form, and Harry on his broom.

"I didn't manage my full winged avian transformation until the fall before last, but I'd gotten far enough in the transformation to get the syrinx about a year before that, and once I'd gotten that far, every attempt at practicing the transformation after that always got that far, so I had almost a whole year of transforming between getting my syrinx and finishing the full thing, and until I managed to learn to talk normally, I was screwed every time I transformed."

"Oh, wow. So er... how long did it take to work it out?"

"Eh... I guess it really only took about a month of occasional practice before I could speak and it sounded like real words instead of chittering, squawking and barking noises, but it took me nearly the whole year before it actually sounded somewhat like my normal voice."

"It's still not _exactly_ the same," Harry said, nodding. "But no one's avian voices sound the same as their human ones, so I never gave it any thought."

"We can imitate our human voices, but it can't be a perfect match because no matter how advanced a syrinx is, it's still not the same as a larynx," Alexis explained.

Alexis paused at that point to examine Harry some more and Harry stood there allowing his cousins perusal, wondering what else the boy might notice that Harry himself hadn't caught yet. Alexis reached up and rant the tips of his fingers over the bridge of Harry's nose while tilting his head slightly to the side, curiously.

"I don't think you're too far off from getting the full beak, honestly. You've already got a bit of the upper mandible forming out of your nose cartilage. I wonder which one you'll get."

Harry hummed in thought, having also wondered the very same thing. Everyone in the family had a raptorial type beak, except for is aunt Lucienne's husband, Henri, who had a long, straight bill one might find on a Starling. Noemie and Lilou were both still too young for anyone to know if either of them would inherit their father's features.

And while papy Luc's beak distinctly looked like that of an eagle, Alexis' beak was smaller and more reminiscent of a peregrine falcon. Harry's uncles Leon and Crestien both had beaks and feather coloration patterns that looked like eagles, but they were dark colored beaks, instead of the golden yellow of their father. Their wives both had smaller falcon like beaks, Elodie looking like a pygmy falcon's beak, while Josiane's beak looked more like a peregrine falcon. Geffroi was often teasing Alexis that he had inherited his mother's beak, instead of getting his father's more _regal_ one. Harry actually thought it looked really cool and didn't think that a falcon was in any way effeminate-looking, so he couldn't quite see how it warranted the teasing. Besides, Geffroi still had no idea what sort of beak he'd end up with. He'd really be in for it (and deservingly so), if he ended up getting _his mother's_ tiny pygmy beak.

"Think your up for trying to push the transformation further?" Alexis asked, looking eager and hopeful.

Harry really was't sure if he was, just yet, but he was feeling optimistic, thanks to his success so far and decided to five it a go. He worked on it for another half an hour before he was too tired to go on and finally decided to call it a day. Unfortunately, he _then_ had to go through the process of turning back. It took him several minutes of focusing before he finally got every scale, feather, and adjusted bit of bone and muscle to go back to normal.

He collapsed on the couch back on in the sitting room of his grandfather's section of the manor while Alexis gushed to the others at how far Harry had managed to get in his transformation.

Lucas was especially proud and smiled at him warmly while offering his congratulations and encouragement.

Over the remaining week and a half of his winter holidays, Harry practiced his transformation a few more times, but was a bit more interested in soaking up the time with the rest of his family, so he didn't get much further.

Mostly he spent the holiday hanging out with Alexis, Sebastien, and Geffroi, or entertaining the girls. He looked after little three-year-old Lilou for his aunt Lucienne a few times, and was shocked at how much she'd grown just in the few months since he'd gone off to Hogwarts.

When the day he had to return to Hogwarts dawned, Harry found himself heaving a heavy sigh. Alexi had left two days prior, since Beauxbaton's schedule was slightly different than Hogwarts', so Harry had spent most of the previous two days with Sebastien and Geffroi. They were ages nine and seven, so he couldn't quite see them as peers the way he could with Alexi, who was only two years his junior, but he still enjoyed the time he spent with the two youngest boys, quite a lot. They'd had a lot of fun running around the manor grounds, and the manor itself. He was already missing Alexis, and he knew he'd be missing all the rest of them very soon here.

He heaved another sigh and forced himself out of bed and towards the bathroom to take care of his daily ablutions. He went through breakfast with his family, trying to soak them all up as much as possible.

Eventually, it was time to head out and everyone gave him hugs and said their goodbyes. He almost teared up when Noemie latched herself onto his leg and started to bawl while begging him not to go. Her mother pried her away and held her while Harry went over to his grandfather's side, grabbed hold of Hedwig's cage in one hand and the portkey in the other while Luc grasped the handle of Harry's trunk. A final wave of goodbyes were called out just as Harry and his grandfather disappeared in a swirl of light and sound.

– –

Harry heaved yet another sigh as he propped his hand on the heel of his hand and stared out the window of the compartment as the scenery flew past. Ron was laughing as he recounted some of the havoc that the twins had wreaked upon his family over the holidays, and then exclaimed excitedly about a few of the gifts he'd gotten. He finally seemed to realize that Harry wasn't laughing along with him and paused to ask why he was so glum?

"Was your holiday that awful?" he asked cautiously.

Harry turned and blinked at him in obvious confusion. "Awful?" he echoed.

"Well... yeah, I mean, you're just so... _down_."

"Oh, no, no. It was _bloody fantastic_, actually," Harry said, ducking his head and smiling widely before the smile melted away and he sighed again. "I just... miss them already, I guess. I wish I could have stayed longer. It was great, but it was just too short."

"Oh," Ron said in surprise, apparently not knowing what else to say.

"So you had fun?" Hermione asked encouragingly. "What all did you do?"

Harry's smile returned and he began to recount some of the more notable points in his vacation, but also took the time to actually tell Ron and Hermione some more specifics about his family.

"Wow. And they all live in one house? It sounds even more crowded than _my_ house," Ron exclaimed after Harry had finished with a summery of his various aunts, uncles, and numerous cousins.

"Well, not _all_ of them live in the same house. Aunt Lucienne and her family live on Henri's family estate, and not the Chateaux de Faucon, but Uncle Leon and Uncle Crestien both live at home with each of their families. But that doesn't make it crowded. The Chateaux is pretty huge. It's got wings and multiple levels. It's divided up into suites, so each sub-family has their own private space, so to speak. They could move into their own places, if they really wanted to, but it's usually not done. The males of the royal line always tends to remain in their ancestral homes."

"That is so _weird_..." Ron said, shaking his head in wonder. "Does this make you a prince or something?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Hardly, Ron. I'm so far away from the main line that I barely qualify as having royal blood."

"But you can still trace your line back to _royalty_, Harry. That's insane! And not just royalty, but _Veela_ royalty! I can't believe my best mate is part Veela!"

"I did some reading over the holidays, Harry," Hermione began and Harry found himself grinning in expectation – he had pretty much predicted that she'd do just that when he'd informed her, quite literally at the very last moment – that he was of Veela descent, that she'd probably spend a big portion of her break in full research mode.

"Oh yeah? Do you have any questions for me?" Harry asked, smiling simply.

"Er... well, I'm not sure," she said, seemingly caught off guard.

"I heard that Veela women are the most beautiful women in the world," Ron asked, leaning in and speaking with a conspiratorial tone. "They say that no man stands a chance against the beautiful allure of a Veela."

"Well, I suppose that _could_ be true for non-veela males," Harry said with a slight shrug, "but the Veela Allure doesn't work so well on other veela unless they're both a really good match for each other. Veela have to be specifically compatible for their allure to work on each other. It's sort of how veela find their mates, you know? But the Veela Allure effects nearly all human witches or wizards. Muggles too, of course. So it effects all humans, whether they're a good match for the veela or not." Harry paused in thought before chuckling. "I mean, if the Veela Allure worked on all Veela, can you imagine the chaos that would exist in Veela society? It'd be crazy!"

"Oh..." Ron said, sounding a mixture of confused and disappointed. "Wait, so does that mean you're immune to the um... allure, of all other Veela unless they're your prefect match or something?"

"Yup, pretty much. Although it doesn't have to be a _perfect _match for it to effect me. But a near-perfect match is needed for it to effect me _a lot_."

"So you weren't going crazy and swooning for all your aunts and cousins?" Ron asked with a mischievous grin.

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "No, I wasn't swooning after my aunts. And my oldest female cousin is _seven_. None of them have even hit their veela maturity yet. They have no allure."

"Harry..." Hermione said slowly with that look on her face that told him her mind was working over something she'd read that had gotten her thinking. "Now that you mention the mate thing, I'm really curious because I've seen a lot of conflicting information on that subject."

Harry chuckled and nodded his head. "I imagine you have. Lots of people have tried to romanticize the whole idea. Heck, there's practically a whole genre of veela romance fiction."

Ron snickered loudly while nodding his head. "My mum has some of those. They're ridiculous!"

"Right, well, as I was saying, a lot of the things I read are very conflicting on the subject," Hermione said, obviously pressing for Harry to clear it up for her. "Some seem to suggest that all veela have some sort of destined mate, while others make it sound like a veela can mate with whomever they want. Some made it sound like they've got no choice in the matter once they've found someone that their instincts choose for them, while others made it sound like a veela can date freely, just like any human could. And each and every one of them insisted _they_ were the definitive resource and that _they_ were right, while all the others were wrong!" she ended, her rant with frustrated enthusiasm before huffing loudly and sitting back into the compartment's bench seat.

Harry chuckled slightly, amused by her obvious irritation with the inconsistency of the books she'd been looking at. Generally speaking, Hermione tended to take whatever she read as gospel, but having books directly contradict each other was not something she was accustomed to.

"Okay, it's basically like this," Harry started and Hermione instantly sat up straighter, giving him her full attention. "This is what I learned over the previous summer from my grandfather, uncles, and my tutor. It's probably not _everything_, because I sort of got a crash course, but I'm pretty sure I've got the gist of it right. So the whole destined mates thing is just romance novel drivel. Veela aren't any more _destined_ to end up with one specific person than any witch or wizard is. They can date, and usually _do_ date quite a bit. The allure works in degrees on other veela. The more compatible a veela is with a person, the stronger that person's allure will effect the veela. It's sort of a way to gage compatibility."

"But compatibility in _what way?_" Hermione asked, sounding frustrated.

"Well... every way I guess. That's why there's levels, really. Um... physical attraction is a part of it, but so is personality compatibility, and breeding potential, and a bunch of other stuff. Veela's magical instincts are extremely powerful, and reach out to other veela, sort of testing the waters, I guess."

"It seems sort of silly that being near the person you're most compatible with would cause you to go the most loopy, though," Ron offered, looking confused.

"Loopy?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"Yeah, well... I mean, I saw a Veela once when I was nine, you see, and all my brothers started saying the stupidest stuff, and all jumping over each other trying to impress her. It was hilarious, really."

"Oh, right. Well, Veela Allure effects humans differently than it does other Veela, so it's not so much a matter of going 'loopy' around potential mates. It's more like a really strong pull to that person, or a heightened attraction or something. I dunno," Harry laughed weakly, flushing slightly feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Does this mean that all the girls are going to be falling all over you like crazy at some point?" Ron asked, with a worried grimace.

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, looking rather pointedly at the floor and appearing a bit sick, himself. "I... don't know. But um... it's... probably, yeah... If I'm lucky my allure will start to kick in during the summer holidays and I can focus on learning how to control it before I have to go back to Hogwarts, but there's really no guarantee it'll happen that way. But I've already covered the basics, so I know what to start doing when I start seeing signs that it's um... starting to effect people around me. My tutor from last summer went over the meditations and the practice exercises, but without having an actual allure to practice controlling, it's all just theory and I've never been all that good with theory.

"But," Harry continued, smiling a bit brighter now, "I've been told that the more control I've gained over my other Veela powers, the easier it'll be for me to gain control of my allure when it starts to show up. I've been making a lot of progress on my other veela powers, so I'm pretty optimisitc."

"Other Veela powers?" Ron asked, twisting up his face in confusion. "What _other_ powers do Veela's have, besides being pretty?"

Harry guffawed slightly on the suggestion that veela were only good at 'being pretty', but decided to ignore it and press on.

"Well, Veela are natural fire elementals."

"Oh! So that's true, then?" Hermione asked, excitedly.

"Yup. Check this out," Harry said as he raised his hand, palm-up, in front of him and focused for a second. A ball of yellow-orange flame suddenly appeared in his hand, flicking and licking into the air.

"Whoa! Bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, leaning forward. "You can control fire without a wand?"

"Yup," Harry said grinning widely. He focused back at the ball of fire, squinted his eyes for a moment and it turned blue and it's flickering movement became more irratic.

"Wow," Ron breathed in awe.

"You can control the temperature?" Hermione asked interested.

"That's right. It's shape too." Another moment of concentration and the ball of flame became a ring of flame, moving in a circular motion. He continued that for several seconds before he changed it again so that it looked almost like a fire snake and he sent it flying through the air in little loops and twists.

"That is just _brilliant!_" Ron gushed.

Harry closed his fist and the fire disappeared into embers that floated into the air and vanished.

"So... wandless fire. That's awesome. What else?" Ron asked.

"Um... well, I can transform," Harry said, hesitantly. "Or, well, I'll be able to eventually. I can only partially transform at this point."

"Transform?" Ron echoed hesitantly, looking a bit more wary now. "You mean... I mean I heard that Veela turned into these bird monsters. Is that for real?"

Harry sat a bit straighter, looking defensive and frowning. "I don't know about bird _monsters_, but we do have an avian form, yeah."

"One of the books I read," Hermione began hesitantly, watching Harry closely as she pressed on, "seemed to suggest that when veela transform into their avain form that they're exceedingly violent and easily angered."

Harry's eyes widened and the affronted anger was obvious enough that Hermione quickly pressed on.

"But I was already pretty sure that book was one of the more inaccurate ones because it also went on and on about all this destined mate drivel," Hermione said, raising her hands in an appeasing gesture.

"Yeah, well it's rubbish," Harry said indignantly. "Veela are no more _angry and violent_ in their avian form, or _any_ form, than anyone else. A veela can be more driven by instinct than a human would be, but we're still fully sentient and intelligent beings just as any _human_ wizard is. People who spread stuff about veela being dangerous, angry, _monsters_, are the just narrow-minded bigots who want to believe that they're superior by squashing the rights of others."

Hermione nodded firmly in agreement and smiled reassuringly at him.

"So what's the bird form like?" Ron asked a minute later.

They talked for a while longer on the topic of Harry's veela heritage, but eventually the topic did start to work its way to other subjects. They did broach the subject of keeping all of this a secret, again, and it was decided that as a general rule, they just wouldn't talk about it at all, while at Hogwarts unless they felt really secure in their privacy.

One of the other topics that they eventually worked their way onto was Harry's mysterious broom gift. Understandably enough, Ron was obviously very jealous. He still didn't have a broom of his own at _all_, and here Harry now owned the two best brooms on the market. His foul mood was eased considerably when Harry pointed out that there was no way that he could ever possibly need to use _two brooms at the same time_, and he wasn't about to leave one in storage, collecting dust all the time, so _obviously_, it would be for Ron to use.

This perked him up, _considerably._

–

The school year resumed and Harry was quickly swept back up in the routine of school life. He continued his regular letter writing to his grandfather and cousins, with occasional letters to his grandmother as well.

The first thursday back at Hogwarts, Harry had his first anti-dementor lesson with Professor Lupin, where they covered the theory of a spell called the Patronus. It required a happy memory to fuel it, and Harry smiled at the thought, realizing that for the first time in his life he well and truly had a large selection of memories to choose from. Lupin was impressed when Harry was able to conjure a glowing shield of white mist from his wand on his second try, and pushed the boggart-dementor back into the cupboard. It wasn't quite a corporeal animal form, but it was more than Lupin had expected for their first lesson.

Harry was enthusiastic and felt legitimately optimistic. Knowing that he was finally taking steps to combat the obvious weakness he suffered from in regards to the nasty creatures, put a skip in his step, and he left the lesson in a good mood.

January seems to fly by very quickly for Harry and before he knows it, it's the end of the first week in February and time for the Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw quidditch game. This time there are no dementors to knock Harry out and Gryffindor ends up winning the game by a huge margin. Wood was beyond ecstatic, and enthusiastically slapped Harry on the back in congratulations when the match was finally finished and they all went into the locker rooms before heading to Gryffindor Tower for a post-game celebration.

When they got there, however, it was quite clear that there was no celebrating being done. Sirius Black had broken into Gryffindor Tower during the game – well, not broken into so much as he had given the password to the portrait off a list, and walked right in without a fight. The discovery that Neville, who had a notorious problem with keeping track of the passwords, had _written them down_ to help remind himself, and then _lost_ the list, did not go over well with _anyone_, and it was no surprise when Neville got a howler the next morning from his gran.

It was obvious that Neville felt horrible, but his guilt level only raised several fold as it was revealed that Sirius Black and gone to only one place – the third-year boys dorm – and he'd ripped Ron's bed to shreds.

It was instantly assumed that he'd ripped apart Ron's bed by mistake, and that he'd probably been aiming for Harry instead.

Harry couldn't help but think there was a great deal wrong with this bit of logic, but Hermione seemed to be the only one willing to listen to him, and even _she_ was still convinced that Harry was obviously in great danger and needed to be cautious.

In a letter to his grandfather later that night, Harry pointed out that the whole thing seemed incredibly _odd _to him. After all, it was no secret that Harry was on the Quidditch team, and thus would be playing in the game. If Black used the game as a diversion to get into Gryffindor Tower, which seemed to be the case, then he knew Harry _wouldn't be there_.

If he wanted Harry, why not remain in the tower in hiding? Why rip apart _Ron's_ bed? It looked like he was _looking for something_. Not _someone_. Not Harry.

At least... that's what Harry thought. No one else seemed to care, and he expressed to his papy, just how frustrating he found that.

When Lucas wrote back, he empathized with him and agreed that the whole Sirius Black thing definitely looked very strange, and he agreed that it didn't honestly seem that Black had been after _Harry_, specifically. But he was clearly after something, and he had reason to believe that something was in Harry's dorm room. This alone was cause for caution, and he asked Harry that he promise to be very careful and contact him the very second anything unusual happened.

A week later was a Hogsmeade Weekend, and once again the teachers insisted that Harry remain behind in the school, _for his own protection_. Feeling indignant frustration, he agreed just long enough to slip away to his room to collect his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map and then sneak out to Hogsmeade.

Harry came up upon Ron and Hermione talking near the shrieking shack, but just before he had a chance to reveal himself he heard voices and stood to the side of the road observing. It was Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy swaggered down the path with his head held high and his nose even higher as he looked down at Ron with a disinterested sneer.

They snarked back and forth for several minutes with Ron eventually growing more angry and Malfoy sneering with ever increasing disdain. Harry quietly worked his way around and gathered up a few snowballs before sending them flying at Malfoy and his goons. A bit of chaos ensued as Malfoy and his minions were led to believe that it was _ghosts_ from the shrieking shack or something, but this illusion was dispelled when Harry's head was revealed from beneath the cloak and Malfoy stared at him wide-eyed and shocked for all of five seconds before turning and bolting, with Crabbe and Goyle running behind.

Realizing that the Slytherins would undoubtedly report him to Snape, Harry rushed back to the school as quickly as he could manage, given that he had to do it while traipsing through a low-ceilinged tunnel and then climb out from beneath a statue.

He spent the remainder of the day on high alert, constantly paranoid that Snape would come out from behind the next corner or alcove to accuse him of having snuck off grounds. But it never happened. It was actually the next day, when Harry was grudgingly moping through the corridors after Ron and Hermione had disappeared to the village, that Harry found himself face to face with Malfoy.

The blond looked at him with shocked eyes as they nearly ran into each other, mostly because of Harry's own inattention as he walked, but probably also partially because Malfoy was doing much the same.

Harry instantly braced himself for whatever venomous words would shoot out of the boys mouth, but nothing came. In fact, Malfoy appeared almost stunned into silence, and Harry was lost for a logical reason why.

"Malfoy," Harry said, hesitantly as way of greeting.

This seemed to snap Malfoy out of his weird stunned shock because he suddenly huffed up his chest indignantly and _glared_ angrily at Harry.

"What were you thinking?" he hissed.

"Huh?"

"What were you doing in Hogsmeade?"

"Uh... buying candy?" Harry replied, feeling utterly bewildered.

"Are you completely mental? Do you _want _to get killed by a murdering lunatic?"

"What the hell are you on about?" Harry snapped, feeling aggravated now in addition to being confused.

"Black broke into your dorm room and slashed open you pillow less than a _week_ ago! What the hell do you think you're doing sneaking out of the school just to buy _candy?_ You can't honestly expect me to believe that you think the weasel and Granger could help protect you if Black had come upon you. I bet there wasn't a single other person who had any idea you'd even snuck out! What if you'd been alone? No one would have even known to go looking for you!"

Harry gaped at Malfoy, feeling utterly stunned.

"Black didn't slash open _my _pillow, he slashed open _Ron's_. Besides, why do _you_ care?" Harry asked, but there was less bite to his voice than intended. Mostly, he just sounded confused. Which he was.

Malfoy's eyes widened and he seemed to suddenly come up short – possibly just as confused by his own actions as Harry was. Then his face hardened into a cold scowl and he turned up his nose at Harry.

"I didn't save you from falling to your death, just so you could get killed by Black before I've had a chance to demand you repay the life debt you owe me," he said snootily.

Harry scowled at him, hating the reminder that he owed some sort of ultra-ambiguous magical debt to _Draco Malfoy_ of all people. But that thought also reminded Harry of the fact that Malfoy _had_ saved him the previous term, not to mention how the boy had been avoiding him like the plague ever since.

Harry's scowl shifted into a frown as he pondered this for a moment. Finally he looked back up at Malfoy with a piercing gaze that seemed to unsettle Malfoy some because his overly haughty stance wobbled somewhat and his puffed out chest deflated a bit.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why'd you save me? When I fell?"

Malfoy looked startled for all of one second before he sneered at Harry. "A moment of utter insanity, _obviously_."

And with that, Malfoy spun on the ball of his feet and stalked back down the hall he'd come from. Harry watched him feeling even more confused by their interactions than ever before. He shook his head and began to proceed forward, intending to make his way gradually to the library, but as he passed through the space that Malfoy had stood a moment before he paused and found himself sniffing at the air.

Malfoy's scent was fading fast, but it still lingered in the air, even if only very faintly. He hadn't been sure before, but he was fairly sure now.

Draco Malfoy was part Veela.

–

The school year progressed on after that without much of anything noteworthy really happening. Harry continued to do well in his classes, particularly well in the practical aspects, but it still took prodding from Hermione for him to put a lot of effort into his essays and such.

He continued to write regular letters to his grandfather and cousins, and also continued to work on his avian transformation whenever the opportunity arose, which admittedly, wasn't as often as he'd have liked, but he figured he could focus on it more over the summer.

He mastered the corporeal Patronus charm in mid-April, much to his delight and Professor Lupin's impressed pride. Harry had grown closer to the man over the months of weekly private lessons, but still felt wary about where the man's loyalties lay. Lupin still hadn't admitted that he knew anything about Lily's Veela heritage, but he did finally start relaying some stories about times he spent with Harry's father, and a few stories including Lily.

The lessons stopped after he'd mastered the charm, but they would still occasionally speak after class, and Lupin even invited him to tea a few times.

Harry had also been spending quite a lot of his free time on weekends and such with Hagrid. He revealed to the man that he could speak with the Hippogriff's and other equine animals in much the same sort of way he could speak with serpents. Hagrid had been stunned for all of one minute before he switched to pure unadulterated excitement and quickly started shuffling Harry around the stables asking all sorts of questions about what the animals there had to say. He also led Harry to a portion of the stables that _appeared_ to be empty but that apparently held invisible winged horse creatures that could only be seen by those who had directly witnessed someone die.

Harry had found this a bit strange since, theoretically, he'd seen his mother die, but he couldn't exactly _remember _that clearly, so maybe it didn't count?

Despite not being able to see them, Harry quickly learned that he could still _hear_ them, and he found he enjoyed speaking with them as much as the Hippogriffs. They weren't exactly conversationalists, per say. Mostly they talked about the simple sort of things that actually mattered to animals – their living conditions, their food, the things they liked and the things that they didn't. The Hippogriffs tended to gossip a bit more and had a somewhat haughty attitude. They would sometimes make remarks on the exceptionally rude children that sometimes gawked at them. Harry found this amusing. The invisible winged horses – or Thestrals – were a surprisingly gentle lot; in spirit anyway. But they also clearly saw beauty in things very differently than Harry was accustomed to.

Hagrid also had two Aethonan winged-horses that he was attempting to get to breed, but as yet, had had no luck. He asked Harry to find out why, and Harry was startled to learn that the female horse had no interest in male horses and had been rejecting the advances of the male. He relayed this to Hagrid who sighed and accepted it with a rueful grin, commenting that it certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd encountered an animal that 'played thar own side of tha fence'. Harry had blinked at him with mild surprise. It had never even occurred to him that he might encounter a gay horse. Or a lesbian horse, as was the case here.

With all the extra time Harry was spending around Hagrid, he was doing exceedingly well in Care of Magical Creatures, and finding that he enjoyed the class quite a lot. His Runes class had been coming along fairly well also, and he was definitely glad he'd chosen to switch to it, instead of staying in Divination with Ron.

Ron _still_ complained about that, actually; insisting that both Harry and Hermione had _abandoned him_ to a fate worse than death – enduring lessons with Trelawney without either of his friends there to help him. Hermione said it was his own fault for choosing to stick with a 'soft subject' just for the sake of an 'easy-O', instead of choosing a class that was actually _worth something, _or might actually interest him enough to drive him to try a bit harder_._

It wasn't the only thing that the two of them bickered about, of course. The largest contributing factor to their bickering at the moment was actually directly related to their pets. Ron's rat Scabbers, that had been rather ill since some time over the summer, had mysteriously vanished early on in term – somewhere around the start of February – and Ron had come to the conclusion that Hermione's kneazle-cat crossbreed, Crookshanks, was the responsible culprit.

Hermione was, of course, affronted by his accusation on behalf of her cat and his honor, and had staunchly defended Crookshanks, pointing out that she was hardly the only person in Gryffindor with a cat for a pet, not to mention the numerous number of _owls_ that were constantly everywhere in the castle. Why he felt possessed to accuse _her_ cat, and none of the others, she couldn't even imagine. This had, of course, only made Ron angrier, and the two had been pointedly avoiding spending too much time with each other.

This was also part of the reason why Harry had spent so much time with Hagrid. He had just gotten sick of mediating between the two of them in their ever-ongoing argument.

The end of April also saw one other event of significance; Gryffindor played against Hufflepuff and practically pounded them into the ground. They won by a huge margin, and finally managed to make up for what had been lost with the first game against Slytherin where Harry had been knocked unconscious. Not only was it a win for Gryffindor's last game of the year, but it also secured their win of the Quidditch Cup.

May was spent focusing on revision, mostly at Hermione's insistence. She even switched from completely ignoring Ron, to simply giving him cold glares while reluctantly helping him with revision timetables. It appeared that, even if she was angry with him, she still cared enough to make sure he didn't flunk out.

But even with their help, he was still basically on his own for Divination, and it was something he _often_ complained about.

Two weeks into May was the final Hogsmede visit of the year and Harry had grumbled indignantly as he promised Hermione that he wouldn't sneak out this time. He had refrained the last few times as well, much to his own displeasure. To make up for it, somewhat, his grandfather Luc and Alexis had both been sending him lots of french sweets and goodies.

Instead, he decided to take advantage of a Saturday completely free of any guilt-trips from Hermione about not studying enough, and dug out the Marauder's Map with the intention of exploring some of those secret passages and hidden rooms he'd noticed, but not yet had the time to look into.

It was while wandering the corridors that he spotted something that made him freeze mid-step and stare at the map in utter shock.

The name _Peter Pettigrew_ was meandering it's way down one of the corridors on the map, plain as day.

For a moment, Harry wondered if it might be the man's _ghost_, but he shook that thought off since he'd never seen any of the other castle ghosts on the map. Heck, if the map could warn them when Peeves was around, it would be a wondrous thing indeed, but it didn't. He took off down the corridor, intent upon finding the man and seeing what was going on. He was panting and out of breath by the time he entered the same corridor where the map now labeled Peter Pettigrew as being, but as he jolted his eyes desperately around the space, he saw no one. He growled in frustration and went to check the map again but was shocked and horrified to look down at the map and see the name Severus Snape approaching. He looked up and there was Snape rounding the corridor and sneering at him.

Harry quietly swore under his breath and just barely managed to cancel the map before Snape approached him, grinning maliciously.

They bickered; Harry made excuses; Snape tried to get the map to activate but only managed to make it insult him. He was just about to confiscate it when Professor Lupin showed up and managed to worm his way into confiscating it instead. Harry wasn't even sure how he'd managed that, but he was thankful none the less.

Snape finally left and Harry hesitated for only a moment before deciding to tell Lupin what he'd seen on the map. The Professor's eyes had gotten quite large at the revelation that Harry had seen the name Peter Pettigrew on the map. He'd gone quiet as he frowned in thought. He ended up taking the map, which left Harry grumbling in annoyance but resignation.

Harry was just about to leave the corridor completely and return to Gryffindor Tower when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye and dove for it. He grinned victoriously as he came up holding a struggling Scabbers in his hands. Maybe Ron and Hermione would finally stop bickering so much.

That proved not to be the case. Now Hermione was triumphant in the proof that she'd been right all along, while Ron was too embarrassed and stubborn to admit he'd been wrong and just apologize. So the bickering continued and Harry resigned himself to just trying to stay out of it and getting his revision done in time for exams.

June sixth was the first day of exams and it started with Transfiguration in the morning where, among other things, Harry had to turn a teapot into a tortoise, complete with animation of the tortoise. He got it right on his first attempt, and McGonagall even gave him extra points for the extra detail he'd put into the texture and pattern on the shell. He even left the exam feeling confident about his written portion, which would be a first for any exam he'd ever sat for the subject.

The Charms exam followed with a lot of emphasis on cheering charms. Tuesday morning came along and with it the exam for Care of Magical Creatures. Harry was convinced that he nailed that one, but his confidence level plummeted as he made his way into his second exam for the day – Potions. Still, he managed to not blow anything up, and left the dungeons feeling at least vaguely confident that he hadn't failed.

The Astronomy exam was that night starting at ten o'clock and ending at just after midnight. This left Harry dead tired for the History exam the following morning, but he considered the class a bust anyway, and didn't worry over much on how well he'd done in the subject. Herbology went well enough he thought, and following that was his Ancient Runes exam.

Thursday morning dawned and Harry and his friends set out for their Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. Harry felt a sense of relief as he saw Professor Lupin in the classroom. He'd feared the man would be absent today since the full moon was that night, and the last thing Harry wanted was for Snape to substitute for Lupin on the day of their final exam!

Despite his relief, Harry could definitely acknowledge that Professor Lupin looked worse for wear at the moment. There were tired lines creasing his face and heavy bags under his eyes. Harry could only feel bad for the man who obviously suffered a lot from his unfortunate affliction. Worse still, was the fact that if it ever became public knowledge the man would lose his livelihood.

Prejudices were really awful, destructive things. It was like the people who wanted Veela classified as 'beasts', and refused to acknowledge them as equals in any way with wizards. It just frustrated and angered him.

After the DADA exam, Harry breathed a happy sigh of relief, knowing that he'd just finished his last exam and was free and clear for the end of term and his return to France. Ron grumbled miserably as he wandered off to Divination for his last exam and Harry decided to pay Hagrid a visit.

He and Hagrid talked happily for about twenty minutes before Hagrid brought up that Harry could take Buckbeak out for a ride since he likely wouldn't get another chance before term ended. It'd been a while since Harry had flown the Hippogriff so the idea appealed to him a great deal and minutes later they were out in the Hippogriff paddock and Harry was bowing before the prideful avian-horse hybrid.

_'Pleased to see you again, speaker,' _Buckbeak seemed to say to him, as he bowed back. As with all equine-related magical species that Harry could understand the words just sort of materialized in his mind.

_'I am pleased to see you again too,'_ Harry said back aloud, although to anyone else listening, it seemed as if he were whispering so quietly that the words were unintelligible. Buckbeak, however, heard him loud and clear and made a pleased sort of trill.

_'May I fly with you?'_ Harry asked hopefully.

Buckbeak bobbed his head and walked a few steps forward before kneeling down on his front two legs in order to put his body low enough for Harry to climb on.

"I dun think I'll ever get ov'r that talent a yers," Hagrid said with a bright smile. "I gotta say, there ain't no one tha could claim a skill like this ta be dark."

Harry looked over his shoulder and gave Hagrid a small smile before refocusing on the Hippogriff and mounting him. Moments later and they were both in the sky. They soared through the air, skimming over the tree tops of the forest before swooping across the lake and dipping down low enough for Buckbeak to trail his dangling talons and hooved rear feet in the water.

Harry laughed and cheered, giving the Hippogriff the occasional direction, but mostly just enjoying the ride. He hadn't been up there long at all before feathers started to sprout and for once Harry didn't hold them back. No one else was around and he was high enough in the air that no one would notice even if they were. In fact, he decided to try and _intentionally_ pull some of his traits forward and focused inwards for a moment, grabbing hold of that bit of red energy inside him and forcing it to shift to purple. The energy flowed through him with a tingling shiver and a gust of almost relieved breath was expelled from his chest at the sensation. It was a lot easier to shift his magical core into Veela mode than it had been during the Christmas holidays, since he had done some practicing over the last few months.

Feeling the shift was successful, he pushed out and feathers started sprouting along his head, neck and shoulders. He felt the muscles in his neck and back heating up the most, while his legs just felt like they were being squeezed inside overly tight pants for a few moments. His vision made the shift as his eyes transformed and he squealed in delight as he was suddenly able to see _everything._ He could even see the magnetism in the rocks of the cliff that the castle sat upon, and something deep inside him knew instinctively which way was north.

Buckbeak let out a loud, amused screech and Harry echoed it perfectly, pushing the sound out of his syrinx instead of the human larynx that he could already feel dissolving away. Aaaand, it was gone. He tested the waters, seeing if he could speak normally, and almost chocked as he found he simply lacked the muscles and organs to do it. He chuckled weakly, internally, and gave a mental sigh. He was going to have to spend some over the summer learning how to speak using the avian speech organ.

Harry could hear renewed amused chattering from Buckbeak and Harry chattered right back, even though the sound was mostly just nonsense to him. In his head he could sense the Hippogriff's words, and found that he could still somehow speak back, even though he no longer had a larynx. But then again, it was a _magical_ language he was speaking, and not one he ever had to learn – it was just something he could do. He wondered if he could still speak to snakes, even in his avian form?

Harry felt his back muscles growing hotter and hotter – more so than he'd ever felt them get before, but he wasn't yet too tired to press on so he decided not to stop. He closed his eyes, clinging on more tightly to Buckbeak's neck and _pushed_ his power outwards and towards his back and shoulders.

A startled cry and a gasp, mingled together, was wrenched from his mouth as he felt his flesh suddenly _tear_, and a rush of power and heat, and _pain_ seemed to erupt from his back. He called out in surprise and pain and then buried his face in the back of Buckbeaks neck.

The Hippogriff's flight faltered slightly and Harry suddenly realized Buckbeak was cursing at him for disrupting the wind and their flight. He also seemed to be telling Harry to put his... _wings_ away?

Harry gasped and pulled his head out, turning it around and looking over his shoulder. There, sticking out of his extra set of avian scapula were a pair of large feathered wings. Harry let a trilling laugh escape from his chest in shock and gave a great whoop of a cheer, but his reverie was quickly subdued as Buckbeak's flight continued to waver precariously and he was once again cussing at Harry to stop screwing up their flight unless he _wanted_ to crash.

Harry quickly apologized and then focused on trying to figure out how to control his two knew appendages. It was extremely weird, but he also found himself getting used to it quickly. He pulled the wings down and awkwardly folded them against his own back, finding he wasn't entirely sure how to do it comfortably yet.

A thought suddenly occurred to Harry as he realized that the wings were usually the _last_ step in the transformation and he set to examining the rest of himself. His hand came up and he touched at his face. Despite expecting it, he still managed to feel surprised as he found a sharp curved beak there. He traced the pads of his thick taloned fingers over the side of his beak and mouth and could feel the fleshy corner of his mouth turning up into as close to a smile as a bird's mouth could. He felt utterly estatic.

_'You are happy, young bird-wizard. Is this your first turning?'_ Buckbeak asked as Harry continued to look at what bits of him he could look at while still riding a Hippogriff a hundred feet in the air.

_'It is!'_ Harry replied excitedly. _'I've never gotten this far before. I might even be able to fly on my own now!'_

_'You have my congratulations. Do you wish to fly yourself down?'_

Harry mentally laughed and audibly, it came out as an amused chattering sound. _'I don't think that would be wise. I'll need lessons over the summer to learn to do it properly. If I tried to fly now, I'd likely kill myself.'_

_'Yes. Younglings should never try to fly from great heights before they are ready,'_ Buckbeak said sagely, and Harry laughed – or cawed and chattered.

Harry did finally decided that he wanted to examine his form a bit more closely and while on the ground, so he asked Buckbeak to land in a space quite far from the school grounds proper, basically where the Forbidden Forest came up to the edge of the Black Lake. They came down and Harry climbed off and began to examine himself with interest.

His shoes were just barely hanging onto the front of his feet and he kicked them off since they were completely the wrong shape for avian feet. He had three thick toes with long sharp curved talons on them in the front, and one more in the back. He felt as if he were walking on his tip-toes and his ankle was exceedingly high. It had, in fact, made him quite a bit taller and a large portion of his lower leg was showing below the bottom hem of his pants and his robes.

He pulled the robes off and let them fall to the grassy ground and unbuttoned his shirt a bit since it was uncomfortably tight with his keel sticking out so far in the front.

He had a _lot_ more feathers than he ever had before, and they were almost all black, like his hair was. Or... rather, like his hair used to be until he turned into feathers. He ran a taloned hand along the top of his head and felt a bird's nest of feathers there, sticking up just as unpredictably as his hair ever did. He rolled his eyes and gave a defeated twittering laugh. Even as an avian, his hair seemed destined to be constantly messy.

_'You look good, bird-wizard,'_ Buckbeak said and Harry turned to see the Hippogriff cocking his head to the side and observing Harry curiously. _'What sort of being are you? I have not seen your sort before.'_

_'I'm a Veela,'_ Harry replied mentally while out-loud it sounded like a twittering warble. He found it rather curious, honestly. It felt entirely _weird_ to be making noises like those on his own. It was even odder since he'd been told before when he spoke with the Hippogriffs it sounded like he was just _whispering_, but still speaking like a human would. Now he sounded like some sort of bird chattering on, and yet he was still communicating with Buckbeak, just as before.

_'Veela. I am sorry, but I know nothing of your kind.'_

_'That's fine. There aren't a lot of Veela in Britain. A lot of the British Ministry's laws aren't very favorable to us.'_

_'The politics of man confound me. Wizards are an odd lot.'_

Harry chirped out an amused trill and nodded his head in agreement.

Deciding that he still wanted to know more about what he looked like, Harry pulled out his wand, intending to conjure a mirror or something. He came up short as he realized he probably couldn't say the spell properly.

He looked down at his wand and found the sight of it in his hand a rather curious one. His hands were larger, and the large talons made his grip strange. He knew it was possibly to magically shrink them; he'd seen his family do it, after all, but he had no idea how to do it yet.

He sighed and put the wand away and looked around for a moment before letting his eyes fall upon the lake. He strode quickly over, wobbling a little as he found walking a very strange experience indeed, and hunched down at the side of the water. He leaned over and peered down into the calm black water and was relieved to see a very effective reflection there.

He turned his head from one side to the other, looking himself over curiously. The feathers on his face were smaller and thinner than the rest of his head, and bits of his skin was actually visible around his eye sockets, cheeks and around his beak. His eyes were still the same general shape and the same striking green, but they seemed much larger on his face than they once did, and of course, they had a distinctly avian quality to them now.

The feathers on his face were a dusty gray color, distinguishing them from the shiny black that seemed to exist everywhere else. His beak was a slate gray color, protruding out a slight bit before curving down sharply. The curved tip was a darker charcoal gray, and Harry pondered the various raptor breeds he'd studied to try and pick out just what sort of bird his features most resembled. It was more of an eagle's beak than a falcon's, given the size and length, but it wasn't quite the bald eagle beak of his grandfather, or the large wedge-tail beak of his uncle Leon.

A harpy-eagle, he decided finally. That would explain the chaos of his 'hair', as well.

Harry continued to examine himself for some time longer before he finally sighed and gave it up for now. He knew that the last block of exams would be done very soon and Ron would be looking for him.

He stood straight up, closed his eyes and let a long, slow, breath of hair exhale form his chest and he focused on pulling everything back inside. The warm heat returned as his muscles shifted, twisted, and transformed. The pain in his back was so sudden and sharp that he gave a startled cry of pain and nearly fell to his knees but barely managed to hold himself up right. He felt the wings withering and vanishing in a matter of seconds. He knew what the change looked like from the outside, but it had always appeared to happen so quickly that he hadn't given it much thought to what it would feel like. It certainly felt like it took him longer to dissolve his wings than when he saw any of his family do it. But it _was _only the first time he'd ever done it. Hopefully it would get quicker, and less painful, with practice.

Finally he pulled in a breath, not entirely realizing he'd been holding it since he started the shift back, and opened his eyes. He scowled as he found his vision was crap again, and was suddenly horrified with the realization that he had no idea where his glasses were.

He cursed aloud and smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. They must have fallen off in flight when he went and spontaneously got the urge to try and transform while riding a Hippogriff. They'd probably fallen into the bloody _lake_.

He wasn't too worried though – he knew he had an extra pair back up in the tower. His mamie had insisted that he have a few backup pairs in his trunk should he ever lose them or break them. Harry had pointed out that he'd magically mended his glasses loads of times before and if they broke he could just do it again, but she had simply harrumphed and insisted that magically mending lenses never matched the prescription properly, and having a backup pair was a far superior option.

Now, he was glad for her insistence.

He mounted back onto Buckbeak's back and the pair flew back to the paddock where the Hippogriffs were taken care of by Hagrid. Harry left Buckbeak there and thanked him for his company and for the ride before turning towards the castle.

Everything was a frustrating blur and Harry, once again, cursed himself for his slip. He pondered for a moment if he could manage a partial transformation and bring out just his hawk eyes, and if he did that, if anyone would notice. He knew it was possible to do partial transformations from his tutoring lessons the previous summer, but it was supposed to be a slightly advanced skill. It was one that Alexis was still working on, and he'd been at this a lot longer than Harry.

Of course, Harry had some added incentive at the moment. Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine the feeling to the part of the transformation of his eyes, specifically. Normally he transformed big portions of himself all at once, so it was difficult to isolate the sensation of something so specific. He controlled his breathing and cleared his mind of all thought except for the memory of his transformation. He felt his eyes growing hot and there was an uncomfortable pinching sensation for a moment before it suddenly subsided.

He opened his eyes, blinking owlishly for a moment before a wide grin spread across his face. He'd done it. It wasn't the full shift – he could see four spectrums of light, which mean he was picking up the ultraviolet light range, like normal for his avian form – but he couldn't see the magnetic fields of things. But that was more of a sense than just a sight, so it probably required a more complete transformation of other parts of himself.

In any case, it was definitely enough for what he needed. He just hoped he could get up to the tower without running into too many people, and without them noticing. If anyone did spot him and realize his eyes looked odd, he could just claim it was a spell someone cast on him. There were people wandering around the castle with duck bills, and rabbit ears, or purple skin with yellow polka-dots, all the time. Now, especially, since it was the very end of the year and people were celebrating now that exams were basically done.

He set off for the castle but paused in his steps as his peripheral vision seemed to pick up on something large and dark, moving near the edge of the forest. He turned and looked more closely at what had caught his eye. It looked like a _dog_ of some sort. A great _huge _black dog. It was stalking back and forth along the edge of the forest, seemingly looking for something.

Harry stood there, frozen, watching the dog and feeling, very strongly, that this was something important.


	4. When Worlds are Turned Upside Down Again

Chapter 4 – When One's World is Turned Upside-Down... again.

_He opened his eyes, blinking owlishly for a moment before a wide grin spread across his face. He'd done it. It wasn't the full shift – he could see four spectrums of light, which mean he was picking up the ultraviolet light range, like normal for his avian form – but he couldn't see the magnetic fields of things. But that was more of a sense than just a sight, so it probably required a more complete transformation of other parts of himself. _

_In any case, it was definitely enough for what he needed. He just hoped he could get up to the tower without running into too many people, and without them noticing. If anyone did spot him and realize his eyes looked odd, he could just claim it was a spell someone cast on him. There were people wandering around the castle with duck bills, and rabbit ears, or purple skin with yellow polka-dots, all the time. Now, especially, since it was the very end of the year and people were celebrating now that exams were basically done. _

_He set off for the castle but paused in his steps as his peripheral vision seemed to pick up on something large and dark, moving near the edge of the forest. He turned and looked more closely at what had caught his eye. It looked like a dog of some sort. A great huge black dog. It was stalking back and forth along the edge of the forest, seemingly looking for something._

_Harry stood there, frozen, watching the dog and feeling, very strongly, that this was something important._

"Harry!"

Harry was pulled suddenly from where his eyes were trained on the dog and turned back to see Ron and Hermione racing towards him – Hermione more sedately, while Ron was waving his arms excitedly.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said smiling warmly. She paused as she and Ron got closer and she looked at him curiously. "Where are your glasses, Harry?"

"Er... lost them. It's okay, I've got an extra pair up in the tower, I just need to go up and get them."

"Oh..." Hermione said, voice trailing off and still looking at Harry curiously.

Ron seemed completely oblivious to their conversation and came to an excited stop, bouncing with energy. "I'm done!" Ron exclaimed laughing. "No more exams or classes!"

Harry laughed and grinned at his friend. "That's great! I've been done for the last three hours. So how was Divination's exam?"

Ron grimaced before giving an exaggerated sigh. "It was _awful_. But it's done, so who cares? It was really weird though because after the class was over and done with, I was gathering together my stuff and Trelawney suddenly went all stiff and started talking in a low weird voice. I mean, she usually goes on about people dying horrible deaths and all that, but this was the first time I heard her actually start going on about You-Know-Who. It was kind of creepy.

Harry frowned. "Voldemort? What'd she say?"

"Hell if I know. Something about the Dark Lord being alone and friendless, but now his servant would return to him and he'd become even more awful than before. Damn creepy if you ask me."

Harry felt an awful chill shoot down his spine and a sinking sensation fill the pit of his stomach. He tried to shake it off. Trelawney was a fraud and a hack, after all. Everyone knew that. It didn't mean anything.

"Weasley!" a voice bellowed from behind them and they turned to find Draco Malfoy scowling darkly and stomping towards them in a huff. He was glaring right at Ron, but his eyes flickered to Harry and his steps faltered slightly for a moment before he seemed to recover his determination and finished stalking up to Ron.

"What do _you_ want, Malfoy?" Ron growled angrily.

"You should be grateful that I'd even bother with you, weasel," Malfoy said haughtily as he dug his hand into his rucksack and started to pull something out. However, the something in question seemed to be giving him some trouble, as he appeared to be struggling with it.

Ron, being paranoid and ever-wary of Malfoy, drew his wand, obviously expecting some sort of attack or trick. Harry wasn't quite so sure, but he still watched Malfoy cautiously.

"Your _damn__rat_, has been sneaking into my bag all afternoon!" Malfoy growled, struggling some more. "Come out you damn beast! Ugh! I swear I've caught him in my bag four times today alone! Every time I tossed him out and he'd slip back in later. If I wanted a stupid rat for a pet – which I never would because a _rat_ is a pathetic pet – I certainly wouldn't want your old, sickly cast offs. Get out, you stupid ruddy thing!"

"Scabbers?" Ron exclaimed, looking startled and confused.

Suddenly, Harry's enhanced peripheral vision caught the large black form approaching them with incredible speed. Harry turned to the side and just barely threw himself out of the way as the huge black dog came lunging towards them and grabbed hold of Malfoy and started dragging him towards the Whomping Willow.

"Malfoy!" Harry yelled and Malfoy screamed in horror and pain as he was bodily dragged away, kicking and screaming. The pair suddenly seemed to vanish at the base of the tree and Harry, Ron and Hermione went running after them.

Harry ducked and rolled, dodging the frantically swinging branches of the murderous tree and rolled right down a hole at the base of the tree he'd never realized was there before. He heard Hermione and Ron calling after him, but didn't slow in his pursuit as he discovered there was a tunnel and the panicked screams of Malfoy echoed from further down it drove him forward.

The tunnel was low and Harry had to hunch over at the waist to go on and eventually just resorted to a sort of crawling run. The adrenaline was rushing through his veins and it felt like time was dragging on forever. Malfoy's terrified yelling seemed to be further and further away and it twisted something irrational inside Harry's chest, pushing him to rush forward faster.

He was absently aware that Ron and Hermione seemed to be calling out from behind him again, and they sounded a bit closer than they should be if they were still stuck at the entrance, so he assumed they'd managed to get in the tunnel, but he was too focused on moving forward and getting Malfoy.

Finally he came to the end of the tunnel and what appeared to be a trap door overhead. He pushed it up and looked around frantically. His eyes fell upon Malfoy who was sitting with his back against the far wall, and staring with wide, terrified eyes at a large black dog who seemed to be dragging his rucksack across the room in its jaws, growling fiercely. Malfoy's eyes fell on Harry and the relief that flooded his face in that second was tremendous.

He made something of a whimper of a sound but then both his and Harry's gaze snapped back to the black dog as it began to shift and move and was suddenly replaced with a man.

Harry crawled the rest of the way out of the trapdoor and trained his wand on the man while slowly working his way sideways, inching towards Malfoy.

Then the man turned around.

Malfoy gasped and made something of a horrified strangling squeak, while Harry just felt his whole being freeze up in anger.

"You," Harry growled angrily at the man who had betrayed his parents to Voldemort. The man who had been their friend; the one who was supposed to be Harry's godfather, but who had abandoned him. "I'll kill you," he snarled and brought his wand up, not even sure what he wanted to cast, just knowing he wanted it to be something awful.

But the sound of voices and the trap door flying open again distracted him for a moment. He looked down and Ron and Hermione were just trying to pull themselves up – next thing he knew, his wand was flying out of his hand and into the hand of Sirius Black. Black flicked his wand again and Ron and Hermione both yelped in shock as they were also disarmed.

Harry roared in anger and ran across the room. "Traitor!" he screamed as he bodily tackled the man, throwing him to the ground and wrestling for the wands.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked while at the same time, "Potter!" was yelled out in a panicked voice from Malfoy.

Harry and Black tussled on the ground for a minute. He was grabbing and clawing at the man beneath him in a fit of pure anger that totally blinded him to everything going on around him. Which is why it caught him by such surprise when he was suddenly pulled away from Black and magically bound.

He roared in frustrated anger at being torn away from the man, but was quickly shocked out of it when he found he was looking up into the tired and panicked face of Professor Lupin. He swiveled his head around and his eyes widened considerably as he took in Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy... all bound.

He looked back and Lupin was looking at Black as the haggard man pushed himself off the ground and to his feet and quickly ran for Malfoy's bag.

"Where is he?" Lupin asked Black.

"In that kid's bag," Black rasped and something in Harry's mind clicked.

"I trusted you!" Hermione bellowed angrily at Professor Lupin. "I can't believe this! You're helping him!"

"You don't know what's going on here, girl, so don't presume –" Black began to growl out, but his voice cut off as he pulled Malfoy's bag open and shot his hand deep inside before triumphantly pulling out a fat, terrified rat.

"Scabbers!" Ron yelled.

"No, not _Scabbers_," Black sneered before beginning to laugh rather madly.

"Peter..." Remus whispered, looking at the rat with horror and betrayal etched on his face.

"Peter? Peter Pettigrew?" Harry asked, looking at the two men in confusion.

"He's an animagus. This isn't a rat, it's a man. A traitorous, murdering, back-stabbing bastard," Black snarled before dropping the rat on the floor and aiming his wand. The rat squealed and ran in circles, finding itself trapped in the room's corner.

"Sirius wait!" Remus yelled, reaching out and pushing Black's wand down and then aiming his own at the rat instead. A spell shot from his wand and a moment later it was growing and twisting and transforming into the form of a short, fat, balding man, who was sniveling and begging for his life.

"Scabbers!" Ron squeaked in a horrified, high pitched voice as he stared, disbelievingly at the man now occupying the space where his pet rat once had.

Remus aimed his wand again and a moment later, Pettigrew was magically bound, just as Harry and the others were.

"I'll kill him!" Sirius snarled and was about to lunge for the man when Remus grabbed him around the shoulders and held him back.

"No, you're going to explain to me what the hell is going on, first!" Remus demanded.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"I'd like an explanation, actually," Remus said firmly.

Black looked torn and his gaze flickered from the sniveling Pettigrew to Lupin before he seemed to relent. "I was never the secret keeper. I was a decoy. We switched to Peter because no one would have ever expected him," he paused and gave a harsh, humorless laugh. "But he betrayed them. He betrayed all of us. He's the Death Eater Spy! He was the one feeding information to You-Know-Who. God, Moony, I'm so sorry I ever suspected it was you..." his face crumpled slightly with regret and his head bowed before he seemed to recover himself.

"When I got to James and Lily's house, I was already too late. They were... they were dead. After I got Harry out of the rubble, Hagrid showed up and said that Dumbledore had told him to collect Harry and bring him to 'em. I told Hagrid that I was Harry'd godfather. That James and Lily wanted me to keep him safe, but Dumbledore had insisted. Said he had somewhere Harry would be safe. I... I was weak. I was just so angry and I knew Wormtail would vanish if I let the trail get too cold, so I handed Harry over and let him take my bike and I went after the traitor myself.

"But he set me up! When I finally cornered him in London, he shouted out, making it like I was the one who betrayed James and Lily! It wasn't me, Mooney! It wasn't me," Black said shaking his head in desperation. "I'd never betray James and Lily. Never."

Professor Lupin looked like he was trying not to cry and he nodded his head in silent acknowledgement.

"Wormtail cut off his own finger and left it there on the street. Then he shot off a blasting curse into the crowd, transformed into the rat, and vanished down a sewer. The Aurors showed up after that and the next thing I know I'm in a holding cell. A day later they were shipping me off to Azkaban. I never even got questioned, Moony. No trail, no nothing. That bastard Crouch never even bothered to ask me a damn thing!"

Black turned his blazing gaze on Pettigrew again, looking even more furious and insane than ever. "And it's all because of him."

"How did you know where he was," Remus asked, shakily.

"Fudge came through Azkaban over the summer on his yearly inspection. He had a copy of the Prophet with him and I asked him for it. On the front cover was a picture of that kid's family," he said, nodding his head in Ron's direction. "I saw Peter sitting on the kid's shoulder in the photo and recognized him instantly."

"He's at Hogwarts," Mooney whispered. "They said that you were heard whispering that in your cell. You were talking about Peter."

Black nodded his head, but his eyes remained trained on Pettigrew.

"Remus, Sirius, p-please... I... I swear it's not like you think," Pettigrew sniveled desperately and Black roared in anger, once again requiring Lupin to hold him back. "Ron! Ron, haven't I been a good rat? You can't let them k-kill me!" he wailed and Ron paled even further.

"Oh good god," Malfoy whispered, grimacing in disgust. "Weasel's pet rat has been that disgusting creature of a man, all this time? Please tell me you've been keeping that thing in a cage at night and not doing something horrid like _sleeping_ with it."

Ron made a choking sort of sound and shook his head in silent horror.

"Sirius, I'm going to let Harry and the others go, alright?" Remus asked in a cautious voice you might use with a wild animal. Black nodded, but his gaze remained trained on Pettigrew. Lupin took a few cautious steps back and paused as if trying to gage whether or not it was really safe to leave him, but he apparently decided to go ahead because he made his way over to Harry.

"Can I release you without having to worry about you attacking someone?" Lupin asked and Harry nodded in numb silence. He was feeling a bit too overwhelmed at this point to do much else.

Lupin pointed his wand at Harry and the magical ropes dissolved away. A moment later Harry realized that his wand was being handed to him and he took it in hand.

He took a few slow steps closer to Black while Lupin went over and released the others and knelt down to check on Malfoy, who's leg was bleeding from where Black had bit him and dragged him down the tunnel.

Harry came to a stop a foot away from Black and Lupin turned and watched them cautiously in case he needed to act.

"You didn't betray them," Harry said, looking at Black.

Black looked up, looking almost startled before his sunken eyes softened with grief and he shook his head. "Never."

"But _he_ did?" Harry said, his voice going hard as he glared over at Pettigrew who flinched and paled further beneath the glare.

"Yes," Black growled and sneered angrily as he began to raise his wand and point it at Pettigrew again.

"Sirius? Sirius what are you doing?" Lupin asked worriedly.

"I'm going to kill this filthy traitor like I should have twelve years ago," Sirius snarled. His arm raised fully and a green glow began to spark and flicker at the tip.

"No!" Harry said, suddenly grabbing Sirius arm and pushing it away.

"What? Why!" Sirius snarled in bewilderment as he looked down at Harry.

"If you kill him, then no one will believe that you were ever innocent! He's the only proof, right?" Harry said.

Sirius' jaw floundered slightly and his eyes darted back between a cowering Pettigrew and the silently pleading eyes of the boy still holding his arm.

"He betrayed all of us," Sirius said in an almost desperately pleading whine. "He got James and Lily killed. Framed _me_ for it... lost me _you_.. I..."

"_Please_," Harry said in a quiet but firm voice. "Don't kill him. I don't think my father would want his best mate to become a murderer like this."

Black's resolve flickered and finally he closed his eyes in defeat. "Alright," he whispered.

"Oh, thank you Harry," Pettigrew simpered from behind him and Harry turned a furious glare on the man.

"Don't thank me. I just want to make sure justice is served and the real criminal is put to justice. I hope you enjoy dementors because you're going to be seeing a lot of them, real soon," Harry spat and Pettigrew flinched and cowered again.

"Well, lets work on getting everyone out of here and get Peter to Dumbledore. He'll know what to do," Lupin said.

Harry nodded at him and then his eyes were drawn to Malfoy as Lupin bent down to try and help him up. Malfoy grimaced in pain and a brief keen escaped his throat before he clamped down on it and climbed unsteadily to his feet.

Before Harry had even registered the urge, he was walking across the room and slipped his shoulder under Malfoy's armpit and taking some of the weight off of the other boy's wounded leg. Malfoy's eyes were wide as galleons as he looked down at Harry in some sort of stunned shock, but he apparently decided to simply not say anything because he remained silent as Harry helped him over to the trap door.

Ron looked totally bewildered by this and looked over at Hermione who just shrugged. Lupin went over to Sirius and the two of them hauled up Pettigrew and dragged him to the trap door.

"How did you know to follow us here?" Hermione asked Professor Lupin as they made their way back through the low-ceilinged tunnel.

"I was looking over the Marauder's Map in my office when I saw Peter Pettigrew's name, along with Mr. Malfoy's name, approaching you three on the grounds. Then I saw Sirius' name come from the forest and then the whole lot of you head into the secret passage to the Shrieking Shack."

"Marauder's Map?" Malfoy asked, in confusion.

"It's a map that Harry's father, Sirius, and I, along with Peter's help, made in our fifth and sixth years at Hogwarts," Lupin said and Harry came to an abrupt stop and looked back over his shoulder at Lupin in shock.

"You made it? My _dad_ made it?"

"Yes, Harry," Lupin said with soft smile.

"You're Moony!" Harry said with sudden realization.

Hermione's head shot to the side and she stared at him, wide-eyed. "You know!" she accused.

Harry looked over at Hermione and blinked. "You know?" he asked in surprise. Then he blinked, grinned and shook his head. "Of _course_ you know. You probably figured it out that first month when Snape had us all write those essays on Werewolves."

"Of course I did!" she said indignantly.

Lupin just looked stunned. "Harry, how did _you_ know?"

"Know what?" Ron bellowed in frustration.

"That Professor Lupin is a werewolf, you dunderhead," Malfoy groaned in frustrated annoyance.

"How did _you_ know?" Ron and Lupin both asked at the same time.

"I _didn't_. I just happened to follow these two's babbling conversation better than you, apparently," he spat at Ron with a sneer.

"Harry, how _did_ you know?" Lupin asked more softly this time.

Harry fidgeted and looked around at the group cautiously. "It's... er... I figured it out the same as Hermione. With Snape's essay, and then when I saw that Professor Lupin's boggart turned into a full moon," he lied, although it was apparently a bad attempt, because Malfoy was looking at him through narrowed, suspicious eyes. Harry looked at the floor and resumed walking the blond down the tunnel.

The group finally made it to the end with Sirius dragging Pettigrew most of the way rather roughly and not the least bit apologetic for it.

"Let me go first," Sirius offered when they all came to a stop. "There's a knot on the tree that if you hit it just right, the tree stops being so homicidal."

"No, let me do it," Professor Lupin said. "Just in case there's someone up there."

He climbed up and a moment later he called back down that it was all clear.

Sirius dragged a whimpering Pettigrew to the hole and used his wand – probably stolen – to levitate him up and presumably, Lupin moved it from there. Then Sirius helped Harry get Malfoy up and out and the rest followed after.

Harry crawled out and sat himself beside Malfoy and then helped him scoot to the side as the others began to climb out. Malfoy hissed out through his teeth and Harry's eyes instantly snapped to him with concern.

"You okay?"

Malfoy looked at him with a baffled expression for a moment before his face pinked slightly and he scowled. "I'm fine, Potter," he spat defensively. "It's practically your fault I got dragged into this whole mess, I don't need your help."

Harry glared and pushed himself to his feet. "Fine, whatever," he bit back and stalked away. "Don't know why I even asked," he grumbled bitterly to himself, feeling hurt and confused, and annoyed with himself for feeling hurt and confused. What was Malfoy's problem, anyway?

"Okay, so how are we going to work this?" Ron asked as he climbed out the hole.

"Well, first we're going to get away from this tree. It only stays immobile for so long," Lupin said and they all quickly shuffled to a safe-distance. "Alright, I think we should break into two teams. Can you three get Mr. Malfoy up to the Hospital wing? Sirius and I can take Peter to Dumbledore."

"Are you crazy?" Harry exclaimed disbelievingly. "It definitely isn't going to take all three of us to get Malfoy to the hospital wing, and you need someone to go with you to take in Pettigrew. Sirius can't go with you because the second he's seen by anyone, they'll start firing curses, or summon the dementors or something."

Sirius bowed his head, deeply scowling and a low, frustrated, growl seemed to emanate from his chest. "Damn it, he's right."

"You could come with as Padfood," Lupin offered thoughtfully.

"That's a possibility," Sirius said, perking up instantly.

"I'm still coming with you two," Harry said, stubbornly. "I can act as second witness, too."

"Hey, you should grab the map and take it up with you," Ron said, excitedly.

"Well, that would mean a detour to my office..." Lupin began hesitantly, but his voice died away all of a sudden and his face went ashen white. "Oh no," he whispered and Harry noticed that his hands began to shake and he slowly began to double over at the waist.

"Moony? Hey, Moony, are you okay?" Sirius began hesitantly before a sudden gasp came from his throat and he looked over his shoulder and into the dimly setting sky. "Oh Merlin no! Moony, did you take your potion tonight?"

Hermione gasped, Harry felt his veins run cold and Malfoy made a horrified whimper from somewhere behind him as Professor Lupin doubled-over completely, and began screaming in pain as his limbs and body began to contort and twist horribly.

"Damn it! Run!" Sirius bellowed to the kids as he remained standing in front of Lupin and tried muttering calming words and telling the other man to hold onto himself, desperately.

Lupin transformed into the werewolf with a snarling roar followed by a loud howl that pierced the sky.

"RUN!"Sirius bellowed again before he transformed into the giant black dog Harry had seen drag Malfoy down the tunnel seemingly forever ago. He barked and jumped up, trying to distract the giant, bloodthirsty werewolf from the others filling the grounds.

The sudden shrinking of a dark blob in Harry's peripheral drew his gaze and he suddenly screamed in anger and fury as he watched Peter Pettigrew – currently placed on the opposite side of the werewolf from Harry – transformed into a rat and scurried out of sight.

"NO!" he yelled, but Ron came up and grabbed him around the middle, holding him back and trying to pull him _away_ from the werewolf. "Stop it Ron! He's getting away! Pettigrew is getting away!"

"I think we've got a bigger problem than Pettigrew right now, Harry!" Ron bellowed.

Suddenly a sharp canine yelp of pain shot through the sky and Harry looked up as Sirius was tossed aside like a rag doll, and the werewolf began to stalk towards them. Hermione shrieked, and a Ron made a rather undignified squeak of horror. However, it was the terrified _'Oh__god,__oh__shit,__oh__shit!'_ chant that came from Malfoy that twisted up some weird wrench deep inside Harry's chest, and he absolutely couldn't fathom why. But he wanted to protect _all_ of them, and that's all that mattered.

Harry pulled himself out of Ron's grasp and in an instant, that red ball of power deep inside him was purple and power was flowing out of every pore of his being. He crouched over slightly in a balanced attack pose and didn't even bother to close his eyes or focus. Adrenaline, instinct, and muscle memory drove him in the fastest transformation he'd ever completed. Granted it was also the most painful transformation he'd ever completed, as well.

A shocked shriek came from behind him, and this time it was _Ron_ who had made it, but Harry's mind was now ultra focused on the snarling beast that was stalking towards him to care how much this would freak out Ron, or how Malfoy might react to this revelation. Then again, Harry already suspected that the blond knew what Harry was – at least, he had to have guessed on some level.

Harry spread his huge feathered wings, placing a barrier of himself between his friends, and Malfoy, and the giant werewolf that stood before him. His hands were out in attack-ready position, long sharp talons spread wide and a fierce mighty screech echoed through the air, warning the furry beast to stay back.

The werewolf – and that's all it was, Harry couldn't let himself think of it as Professor Lupin at a time like this – snarled back and let out another howl.

"Harry, what are you doing! Oh my god!" Hermione was yelling in the background She shrieked suddenly, as the wolf lunged forward, but Harry leapt into the air, instinct sending him slightly alight, suspended in the air by his natural veela magic, and leaving his powerful legs and their talons free.

He kicked at the lunging werewolf and sent him flying back with a shocked canine yelp of pain. Blood seeped from the deep gashes Harry left on his chest, but the pain didn't seem to be enough to deter him because he got back up and prowled from side to side for a moment, snarling angrily at Harry, who simply sent out another ear-piercing screech of warning. Harry turned his head slightly over his shoulder, catching Malfoy's eye. That illogical _something_ twisted again, and he felt the drive to protect him grow ever still. His eyes moved over and locked on Hermione's and yet let out another demanding trill before bobbing his head towards Malfoy and then towards the castle.

Hermione was clearly shocked by everything that was going on, but her mental facilities thankfully returned rather quickly and she hurried over and began to try and haul Malfoy up onto his good leg. "Ron!" she growled in panicked impatience.

"Harry lookout!" Ron yelped and Harry turned back and barely dodged to the side enough to let loose another swipe of his legs at the werewolf's side and send him deflected to the side, now sporting another new wound.

"Ron, _help__me!__"_ Hermione growled and Ron hurried over and began to assist with getting the wounded Malfoy out of there.

"What about Potter? You can't just leave him there?" Malfoy yelled, his voice breaking in panic as his gaze shot back and forth from the castle sanctuary, and Harry, who was still alight several feet in the air, playing parry with a werewolf.

"Um... I'm gonna go with 'Harry can take care of himself', in this one," Ron said, looking both horrified and in awe of his best mate, as he and Hermione dragged a somewhat reluctant Malfoy up to the nearest castle door. "Blimey, 'Mione, did you know he could do that?"

"No! I had no idea! He said he hadn't completed it yet!"

"You two can't seriously be thinking of abandoning him?" Malfoy yelped, and his voice still had that shocking authentic tinge of panic to it, that legitimately surprised Ron and Hermione.

"Come _on_ Malfoy!" Ron growled as they got to the heavy wooden doors and Ron pulled them open.

"I'm not leaving him!" Malfoy suddenly demanded.

"He'll be _fine_, Malfoy! As soon as we're safe, I suspect, that he's going to get out of there himself." Hermione said.

"And how the hell is he supposed to do that?"

"Well, his form has one very noteworthy advantage over a werewolf," Hermione said in an exasperated tone.

"And what's that?" Malfoy snapped.

"He's got wings!"

Malfoy blinked and looked back at Harry and the werewolf still taking sparring jabs at each other. Harry really was in a much better position, and he was clearly dodging the werewolf's attacks with surprising areal ease. The wolf would lunge, but Harry would dodge each attack swiftly, and in most cases, he got in very damaging slashes with his powerful legs and sharp talons.

"Oh, I hope Professor Lupin will be alright," Hermione said worriedly.

"Are you completely mad, woman?" Malfoy yelped in shock.

"He can't help himself!" Hermione said indignantly.

"I don't bloody well care! He nearly killed us! And he's still nearly killing Harry!"

Hermione's eyebrow raised slightly into her forehead, taking mental note of Malfoy using Harry's first name for the first time that she could ever actually recall, but opted that now was not the time to point it out.

A loud screech from the grounds drew their attention back to the fight and they watched as Harry lowered to the ground just enough for his legs to touch down and bend and then push off with a powerful thrust. He went up into the air a good twenty-five feet and hovered there, with powerfully beating wings keeping him magically aloft.

The werewolf leapt into the air several times but couldn't get nearly close enough to get at Harry. It howled and snarled in frustration and anger but it's efforts eventually petered out. Suddenly, it turned it's gaze on Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy, still gathered in the stone archway by the heavy wooden doors. It snarled, went down on all fours and began to barrel towards them. They all yelped and screeched in surprise and fear and quickly ran inside, slamming the heavy door shut behind them. Hermione pointed her wand and shouted out _Colloportus!_ An impenetrable barrier formed, magically sealing the door closed, just as the heavy _thump_ of the angry beast sounded against it from the other side.

Back on the other side, the werewolf scratched and howled at the door in frustration before snorting angrily and turning back around. He snarled at Harry, still hovering in the air before pausing and sniffing at the air. He put his nose the the ground and began to track forward. Harry watched warily from above, wondering what the hell was going to happen now. He was hesitant to just leave because there was no telling who could come across Professor Lupin when he was like this and wind up hurt or killed.

That thought, combined with the direction the werewolf was heading sparked a sudden recollection in Harry's mind and he turned his head to spot the form of his apparent godfather, shuddering slowly and appearing to push itself up.

Spotting the movement and the sign of life, the werewolf howled again and began to run towards the wounded dog.

Harry screeched and willed himself towards Sirius, hoping to hell he'd get there first. His trajectory was a little wobbly and it took him a moment to get his wings angled just right – long enough that the werewolf nearly got to the large dog first, but Harry nose-dived at the last moment and scooped the dog up in his large hands, wrapping his arms around his whole body and then kicking off from the ground with his powerful legs.

The werewolf leapt into the air and only just barely missed sinking his teeth into Harry's leg before falling back to the earth in a tumble of angry, snarling fury.

Harry struggled to fly with the greatly added weight of his godfather in tow, and it wasn't long before he knew he was going to have to land, or crash; which ever happened first. His goal, really, was to just do it far enough away that the wolf wouldn't follow. Finally the two toppled onto the bank of the Black Lake and Harry dropped his heavy burden before falling to his knees panting heavily with his exhaustion.

Feeling his whole body go weak and heavy, he released his hold on the glowing purple energy and felt himself slipping back into his human form. He crouched there on his hands and knees nearly gasping for breath before letting himself collapse onto his side and roll over onto his back. He let his head lull to the side and watched as the dog transformed back into Sirius Black. The man appeared to be injured – probably a few broken ribs by the way he was holding himself, but he pressed on and nudged his way over to Harry's side.

"Merlin, kiddo. That was... that was insane," Sirius said with an exhausted laugh. "Where the hell did you learn to do that? You mum never even managed to do that!"

Harry let a weak laugh escape his chest before heaving a relieved sigh. He hadn't noticed the werewolf following them as he flew away and he felt fairly confident that they wouldn't be found in this clearing by the lake. He tried very, very hard, not to think about Pettigrew and how the man had escaped them. Instead he just let his breathing calm down and let the coolness of the sandy shore beneath him cool his overheated and overtaxed muscles.

"I'm really shocked, really," Sirius said in a musing sort of tone, "Lily was always insisting to James that it'd be recessive in you. Said there was no way you'd be a Veela. I didn't think it added up, but it seemed to ease some of Jamie's worries, so I didn't say anything. Wow, though... that was just brilliant, Harry. Just brilliant." Sirius let out another rather exhausted-sounding, but truly joyful laugh before heaving a sigh of his own and letting himself fall back onto the sandy bank beside Harry.

The two laid there in silent for several moments before Harry heaved a sigh. "So now what?"

"I keep looking for the bastard," Sirius said coldly.

"But now he knows he can't hide at Hogwarts. He'll leave. He could go _anywhere_. It sounded like he was trying to sneak out with Malfoy's luggage before, but he could slip in with anyone, really – or just take off into the forest and vanish."

Sirius growled in frustration but otherwise remained silent.

"There's got to be a way to clear you without having Pettigrew around," Harry grumbled in frustration. "I mean, there wasn't even a trial for you, right? That's got to be illegal! That's like, a serious miscarriage of justice! You were specifically denied your basic right to due justice or whatever!"

Sirius snorted derisively. "This is the wizarding world. Our laws are a bit more archaic. Besides, Fudge would never let it get out, what really happened to me. It'd be too great a blemish on his perfect political career. He hasn't been in office very long and he's not willing to risk it all on me."

"He's ordered you given the Kiss on sight," Harry growled angrily. "You've never gotten the chance to defend yourself, at all! You deserve a trial! If they held an actual trial, there's no way they could get together enough evidence to convict! Right?"

"They don't need things like _evidence_," Sirius said bitterly.

"I still think we should try," Harry said determinedly as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

"I set so much as one foot in the presence of Fudge or an Auror and they'll have me before a Dementor in the blink of an eye. And anyone who they find that's been helping me out will be charged with aiding a criminal. No way, Harry, it's not safe."

"So what are you going to do? Just stay on the run? You can't do that! You'll die, or they'll catch you!"

"I haven't exactly got much of a choice, do I?"

Harry paused, frowning in thought before that determined glint re-entered his eyes again. "Yes you do."

"Oh really?"

"Come with me."

"Come with you?" Sirius echoed in confusion. "Come with you _where?__"_

"Come with me to France."

"Wait... what? _France?__" __Sirius__sputtered._

"Last summer I moved in with my grandfather in the Veela Nation. I'm going back there again this summer. They can keep you safe. The British Magical Ministry has no jurisdiction in the Veela Nation, and we don't _have_ to extradite criminals! You could claim sanctuary within the Nation. My Grandfather has acted as a diplomate and as legal council to the Family for decades, so he's got loads of contacts. I bet he could even try to work it so you get a real trial."

"Are you kidding?" Sirius gaped at him in disbelieving shock.

"No, I'm serious... er..."

Sirius snorted. "No jokes about the name."

"Right."

"Do you really think that they'd take me in?" Sirius asked, dubiously.

"If I ask them to. If I explain everything, I'm sure they would. But um... well, you can't tell Dumbledore about any of it. He doesn't know I'm living with them yet."

"Wait, how is that working?"

"It's a really complicated story. Let's just say I'm not entirely sure where I stand with my opinion on the Headmaster – the jury is still out, so to speak."

"Well, I can't entirely fault you there. The man has always seemed a bit shifty with some things, but overall, he seems to have everyone's best interests a heart."

"Yeah, but what if 'everyone's' best interests, conflict with _my_ best interests?"

"Huh?"

Harry shook his head. "Never mind. Later. Anyway, we need to work out what we're going to do here. Like, how we're going to get you to France and into the Veela Nation without you getting stopped by the Central Administration of French Wizardry. They _do_ have an extradition treaty with the British Ministry of Magic, so you'll still need to dodge them."

"I don't think I'm recovered enough to manage apparition over such a great distance," Sirius said with a shade shake of his head.

"I've got a broom you could borrow... do you think you could survive flying across..." Harry trailed off and shook his head before bringing his hand up and smacking his own forehead. "I am so _dense!__"_

"What?" Sirius asked, smiling with confused amusement.

"I've got a portkey! Papy Luc had a special emergency international portkey registered and made just for me. It's got diplomatic priority and protection enchantments so you'd bypass all of the normal international portkey scans! It's perfect!"

"Whoa, really? Merlin..." Sirius voice trialed off with surprise. "Although I'll admit that the idea of flying that Firebolt was a bit enticing. It was so hard to wrap it up and send it off without giving it a proper test run first."

Harry's eyes widened and he gaped at Sirius for a moment before a wide smile broke out on his face. "Wait, _you_ sent me that broom?"

Sirius grinned and nodded. "Yup. Although I noticed you had another one that you used against Hufflepuff. What was that?"

"It's the broom that papy Luc got me for Christmas. It's a French broom called the AstroFlash. It's pretty brilliant. I still haven't been able to make up my mind which I like flying more – the Astro or the Firebolt. Anyway, we need to make some plans for you using the Portkey. I can't just send you off without giving them some warning. If Sirius Black just popped up in the entryway without any explanation at all, they'd probably start throwing hexes the moment they noticed you."

"I would expect as much."

"Okay, so I need to send off an owl right away. If I could get to a Floo... maybe Professor Lupin... no, wait... I can't trust him with this yet."

"Huh? Why not?"

"As far as I can tell, he's loyal to Dumbledore. All year long, he's had loads of opportunities to talk to me about things like my mum being half Veela, and my Grandfather's existence and all that, but he never did. It was like pulling teeth just to get him to tell me stories about my parents! Best I can figure, Dumbledore told him not to tell me too much, so he kept quiet. I can't trust him with information about my papy, because he might just run off and tell Dumbledore."

"No way. We can trust Remus."

"How would you know? You haven't seen him since before you got locked up in prison?"

Sirius huffed in frustration, but didn't argue the point any further. Finally he heaved a defeated sigh and shrugged. "He owes Dumbledore," He offered weakly. "It was Dumbledore who allowed him to come to Hogwarts even though he was a werewolf. Dumbledore covered for him, and set up a place for him to remain restrained during the full moons. And now, it's Dumbledore who has given him the chance to teach, even knowing what he is."

"So he feels like he owes the man his loyalty," Harry finished with an understanding nod. "It makes sense, and I can't totally fault him for it, but he's playing along with the Headmaster's schemes to control my life, and that, I'm not okay with. I still can't know for sure which Professor Lupin would put first – my well being, or his loyalty and debt to Dumbledore. That's why I can't trust him with this."

Sirius sighed and nodded his head in concession.

"So using a Floo is probably out. We'll have to wait on an owl. I'll send Hedwig off right away and she should get there by tomorrow afternoon. Think you can find someplace to hid until then?"

"I've been hiding for nearly a year, I think I can manage one more night."

"Okay, we need some place that we can meet up at later, so I can get the portkey to you."

"You don't have it on you?" Sirius exclaimed.

"What?" Harry returned defensively.

"Harry, what's the use in having an emergency portkey if you aren't _wearing__it_ when there's an emergency?"

Harry flushed with embarrassment and shrugged, mumbling under his breath about a bothersome chain and being afraid of losing it.

"Anyway," Sirius said, rolling his eyes, "like you said, we need a place to meet up. How about meeting at the Shrieking Shack again? There's a knot in the wood that if you hit it with a rock, or a stinging jinx, it'll stun the tree still for a few minutes. Think you can manage that and meet me sometime tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure. I think I can manage that," Harry said, nodding eagerly.

"How about after dinner, will that be alright?"

"Yeah, sure. Seven o'clock?"

"Yup.

"Good," Sirius said with a final nod and a hesitantly hopeful grin.

Harry heaved a sigh and gave the man a worried smile. "Will you really be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Sirius groaned while grinning warmly.

"Okay. I should get back to the school and see how Malfoy's doing. You really chewed up his leg."

Sirius grimaced with guilt. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Will Professor Lupin be alright?" Harry asked, suddenly worried. "I'm... I'm afraid I might have really hurt him."

"Werewolves heal remarkably fast. And I've seen him sustain some really awful injuries over the years. Hopefully he won't encounter anyone else tonight and he'll just wake up in the morning way more sore and tender than usual, but still basically fine."

"I hope your right," Harry said still frowning with guilt.

"Alright then, I suppose we'd ought to start heading back to the school."

"You mean, _I_ should head back. You should go disappear somewhere safe."

"No way. I'm sticking with you until I'm sure you've made it safely to the castle. There's a werewolf roaming about out here."

Harry made an exasperated grumble, but inside he was smiling slightly, glad to have someone else who seemed to care.

"Fine, but you need to at least transform. I can't risk someone seeing you now."

"Roger," Sirius said and a moment later he was shifting and shrinking down into the great shaggy black dog.

Harry pushed himself to his feet, groaning as his strained muscles protested the movement. The two then proceeded to cautiously make their way along the shore of the lake and then across the grounds until Harry came to the same heavy wooden door that his friends and Malfoy had entered through earlier.

He turned back and after kneeling down he awkwardly pet at the dog-Sirius' head. Sirius panted happily before turning his head and licking Harry's hand. Harry laughed and grimaced as Sirius barked once before turned, taking one quick look around and then bolting down the grounds towards the forest.

Harry heaved a sigh before turning and entering the safety of the castle. He was startled to find himself legitimately torn between rushing to the hospital to make sure Malfoy was okay, and rushing to the owlery to send off the letter. Finally he crushed the irrational impulse and raced to the owlery to send off the letter warning his Grandfather and family about Sirius. This was far more time-sensitive, and Malfoy did not look to be at all in some sort of life threatening situation once they got him inside.

Still, he felt inexplicably antsy and as soon as he'd sent the letter off with Hedwig, he was rushing all the way back down to the hospital wing and through the large heavy double doors.

"Harry!" Ron and Hermione exclaimed at once, both bolting across the hall to meet him. Hermione wrapped him in a great, shocking hug, while Ron just stood to the side, smiling with relief.

Harry finally disentangled himself and found his eyes searching the hall until they fell on Malfoy in one of the beds half-way down the ward. Madam Pomfrey was no where to be seen, and he was grateful for that fact. He began walking right towards Malfoy the next moment, Ron and Hermione trailing behind with slightly bewildered expressions on their faces.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

Malfoy ducked his head, and scowled at the bed. "Well, I'm not _dying_, I suppose," he moaned, exaggeratedly.

Harry felt something untwist in his chest and a slight sigh left his lips.

"Well... good," Harry said, haltingly as he suddenly registered just how weird this was and realizing he needed some reason other than checking on the health status of _Draco__Malfoy_, for being here. "Um... right – so what did you lot tell Madam Pomfrey or any of the professors about er... how I distracted the um... werewolf?" Harry asked, cringing slightly at his crappy delivery.

"We didn't tell them anything about your Veela form," Hermione said in a hushed whisper, glancing around the ward cautiously as if making extra sure they really were alone, before sending a suspicious look over to Malfoy.

He noticed the look and huffed out in annoyance. "If you want to keep it a secret, far be it from me to be the one to tell," he drawled, sounding forcefully bored.

"Yeah, well, you haven't told anyone about it all year, so I trust you can continue keeping quiet about it?" Harry said, with a smirk.

"All year?" Hermione echoed in shock, looking between Harry and Malfoy with increasing suspicion and confusion.

"And what makes you think I've known about any of this _all__year?_" Malfoy sneered incredulously, but there was legitimate panic in his eyes and for a moment their gazes locked and that panic turned to _silent__pleading_. Harry realized suddenly that Malfoy didn't want Harry to reveal that he was a Veela to the others.

"Well, not _all_ year," Harry recovered slowly. "Just since... since the quidditch match where you caught me. I was sprouting some feathers during that match. I figured you noticed them while you carried me down."

Malfoy's brows raised slightly, almost as if he were acknowledging the acceptably good recovery and the quickly made-up lie.

"Ah, well, you're right. I didn't think you knew though," Malfoy agreed haughtily. "You don't tend to be that observant, after all." He smirked but after a moment it slid off his face and was replaced with cautious curiosity. "How come you don't want us to tell anyone about it though? Are you saying that Dumbledore doesn't already know?"

"No, he doesn't. Or... well, he doesn't know that I know... it's complicated. I don't want Dumbledore to find out that I've managed my Veela transformation, because it would lead to a whole lot of other questions discoveries and he'd make things really really difficult for me if that happened," Harry answered honestly and Malfoy looked legitimately surprised.

"Is this mutiny among the light's loyal ranks, I hear?" Malfoy said with a gleeful smirk.

"Yeah, well it's none of his damn business, is it?" Harry grumbled bitterly.

"Dumbledore's Goldenboy isn't quite as loyal as we were all lead to believe?" Malfoy asked, still grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

"Hey, sod off, Malfoy," Ron snapped in annoyance.

"I wasn't talking to _you_, Weasel," Malfoy sneered.

"Alright, alright. That's enough," Harry said, raising his hands between the two and cutting off their imminent argument. "Just don't tell Madam Pomfrey or anyone else that I transformed into _anything_. You can say that I did lure him away into the forest and that's the last you lot saw of me. I managed to wind my way around some trees and things and found myself a hiding place until he was gone and then I came back."

"Okay, but what about Sirius Black?" Hermione asked.

Harry heaved a sigh and sort of shrugged. "I don't know. We can try giving our statement, but without Pettigrew, I'm not sure we can get anyone in the British Ministry to listen to us."

Malfoy frowned in deep thought for a moment. "I could see if my father would try speaking up on his behalf. No guarantees though."

The other three turned and looked at Malfoy with varying degrees of shock, confusion, and disbelief.

"Why would your father _do_ that though? Sirius _wasn't_a Death Eater," Hermione said pointedly.

"And if he _were_, my father would never come within ten yards of defending the man. That would be political suicide given his 'past'. However, he might consider standing up for someone else _wrongfully__accused_, and in this case, wrongfully imprisoned by the Ministry for more than a decade without a trial."

"Yeah, but your father wasn't _wrongfully_ accused, he was _wrongfully_ let off," Ron growled and Malfoy just sneered, deeply at him in return.

"Ron, _not__now_," Harry growled before turning back to Malfoy. "Okay, maybe, but why would your father be willing to do that at all?"

"Black is my mother's cousin," Malfoy said with a shrug. "He's practically my uncle."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "He is?"

"You didn't know?"

"No, I had no idea," Harry said, shaking his head.

Malfoy dramatically rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yes, well he _is_. He's family, and as such, it would be family duty to see that justice is served properly."

"And of course it wouldn't hurt in your father's eyes if he did something that would make Harry owe him something," Hermione pointed out suspiciously.

Malfoy just raised a single eyebrow, not actually denying anything.

"It might not actually be necessary to use your father's support," Harry began, "but it would be nice to have someone local that was fighting for him too."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked, but Harry just shook his head and said 'later'.

The group spoke for a brief while longer before Madam Pomfrey reappeared with Professor Dumbledore and Snape following after them. They were all questioned as to what happened, and the group was basically able to stick to the cover story without any real problems.

They admitted that Malfoy was dragged away by Black, but left out the fact that he was an animagus at Harry's request. They told about Pettigrew and the Marauder's map, and watching him transform from a rat into a man. About Professor Lupin coming to their aid as well and the whole story getting sorted out and the group leaving to return to the castle, only for Professor Lupin to transform and Pettigrew to get away.

Pomfrey and Snape both looked a bit shocked, but Harry couldn't help but feel increasingly suspicious at the lack of apparent surprise from Dumbledore. But then again, the man never did seem surprised by much of anything.

They claimed that Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy were already near the door when Lupin transformed and Harry waved his arms and distracted Lupin before running off and escaping to hide in the forest. Black got away and no one had seen him or Professor Lupin since.

Snape looked decidedly sour and angry by the whole thing, and made a number of comments, such as Black's irresponsibility at abandoning four school children to the hands of a werewolf. Harry bickered with him a bit, but Hermione nudged him in the ribs with her elbow and he managed to shut his mouth.

Harry was greatly relieved when all of the questioning was concluded and he was finally able to retreat to Gryffindor Tower and get some rest.

– –

The following morning Harry woke up unpleasantly early and couldn't manage to get himself back to sleep. Finally he huffed his way out of bed, showered, dressed and left the dorm alone. There was no way he'd manage to get Ron up this early. It was a Friday, but neither of them had any exams left. The only ones still testing today were NEWT students, and without classes or exams, Harry was fairly sure that Ron would just lay in till mid-day.

After a few bored minutes in the empty common room, Harry marched his way out into the school proper and started to aimlessly wander. Before he even registered that his feet might be taking him somewhere of note, he found himself standing before the large double doors of the hospital wing.

He stood there, just staring at the doors for several minutes, wondering what the bloody hell he was doing there. He wasn't still _worried_ about _Malfoy_ was he? That was just irrational! Sure, it had been a pretty bad bite, but Madam Pomfrey could heal vanished bones; Harry didn't doubt that she could patch Malfoy up without any real problems.

It had bled a lot though, and had looked pretty gruesome. He'd looked like he was in a lot of pain too – although he'd seemed fine last night during their interrogation. But couldn't bites result in infection? Maybe not when magic was involved... and surely Madam Pomfrey would have taken precautions for stuff like that. She knew what she was doing. Malfoy was fine.

And why the hell was he even worried about Malfoy anyway? It was totally and completely irrational! He didn't even _like_ Malfoy! He was a spoiled, nasty git, and a bully! He had been horrid to Harry ever since the first day of first year! He'd insulted Ron, and the only reason he'd cared one lick about Harry was because of his stupid scar. Not to mention he'd been a snooty little prat...

But he'd been better this year... mostly just because they'd hardly even _looked_ at each other. He'd still been nasty to Ron, but he'd been perfectly cordial to Harry; if not down-right avoiding him like the plague. It was odd, but it was better than having the prat constantly pick fights with him, or sabotaging his potions.

Harry growled under his breath, totally and utterly frustrated with himself as he pushed the doors open and entered the hospital wing, _anyway._ It seemed no matter what logical arguments he presented to himself in his mind, some part of him refused to walk away from the infirmary until he'd at least _seen_ Malfoy.

Besides, he could use this opportunity to make sure Malfoy really was going to keep his secret. And since Malfoy didn't seem to want anyone to realize that _he_ was a veela, Harry could always leverage that to force the Slytherin prat to keep his mouth shut. Besides, it was early enough that Malfoy might just be asleep, in which case, Harry could just look at him and leave and no one would ever even have to know he'd come.

Harry walked quietly down the completely empty ward and came stop at the foot of Malfoy's bed. He appeared to be sleeping. Harry released a small sigh of relief – not entirely sure if he was relieved that Malfoy was asleep and he wouldn't have to interact with him, or relieved that he had visual proof that he was still alive and breathing, because there was no reason at all for Harry to be relieved to see that Malfoy was breathing.

But then Malfoy's eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened, revealing two silver-gray eyes, blinking up at Harry with bleary confusion.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked and Harry felt himself lock up.

_What __the __hell __am I__doing __here?_ This was stupid! It was _weird!_ It was totally and utterly irrational!

"I... er..." Harry stuttered, feeling more and more like an idiot for being here.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Malfoy muttered as his hand came up and he rubbed it over his face sleepily and then through his tousled blond hair.

"I..." _think__ of __something! __'I __was __worried __and__ wanted __to __make __sure __you __were __alright'__ – __NO!__ That's __stupid__ and __weird! __Think __of __something __else!_ "I just... I wanted to talk to you about the... er... the Veela thing."

Malfoy's eyes widened and darted around the room in an almost panic for a moment before glaring angrily at Harry and pushing himself into a sitting position, propped up against his pillows.

"I – "

"No! Be quiet!" Malfoy hissed as he reached over onto the night stand and grabbed his wand. He looked around cautiously again before casting what Harry was fairly sure was a privacy spell of some sort. "Pull the screen over so no one can see us," Malfoy grumbled as he shifted himself around a bit more, trying to get comfortable. Harry did as directed and came back to the side of Malfoy's bed just as the boy winced and pulled the blankets back on his leg a bit to examine it.

"Does it still hurt?" Harry asked, once again speaking before he could stop himself.

"Of course it does. I was mauled by a great mad beast and dragged down a filthy tunnel in it's jaws," Malfoy snapped and Harry ducked his head, not sure what to say or do. He felt guilty for some reason, but it really wasn't his fault. If anything it was Pettigrew's or Sirius', and loosely, one could maybe point the finger at Ron for having the rat in the first place and bringing it to the school, but he could hardly have known who Scabbers really was. And yet Harry couldn't stop the irrational pit inside him that blamed himself for not being able to save Malfoy from being barreled over and dragged off by Sirius in the first place.

"Sorry," he mumbled and Malfoy looked at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

"What for? Not like it was actually your fault," he muttered eventually, looking away.

Harry looked up at him, somehow surprised by the response.

"So you wanted to discuss the '_veela __thing'?_ Malfoy drawled in annoyance, abruptly changing the subject.

"Er, yeah. Right. So I mean... you're one too, right?"

"I most certainly am not!" Malfoy snapped defensively.

Harry blinked at him, taken aback by the response. "But er.."

"But what?"

"But you smell like one," Harry said helplessly and shrugged his shoulders.

Malfoy's eyes widened and his face went slack before his head suddenly bowed, chin touching his chest and he heaved a heavy sigh. "Please don't say that," he whispered, almost desperately.

"Malfoy, what's the deal?" Harry asked, frustrated. "I mean, if you're not a Veela, then what are you?"

"I'm human! I'm a human, pure-blood wizard!" he growled, desperately.

"You don't smell like a pure-blood human," Harry said pointedly.

"I bet my father would," he said, bitterly.

"Your father would, _what?__"_

"Smell human."

"Malfoy, I _really_ don't follow you on this. What are you talking about!"

Malfoy growled out an annoyed sort of huff before sinking back into his wall of pillows stacked up at the headboard.

"My great-great grandfather, was a full-Veela," Malfoy said in a very quiet voice that Harry had to strain to hear. My grandmother, who was only one-quarter veela, showed _some_ of the traits, but she had strict control over them before she met my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. No one in our circles had the faintest clue that she had any... impurities, in her line, and my grandfather loved her, so he ignored the fault. My father was only one-eighth veela and never exhibited any of the signs. Being only one-sixteenth, it was expected that it would pass me by as well. I shouldn't... I'm _not_..."

"But it hasn't," Harry stated simply and Malfoy cringed.

"It would appear," Malfoy sneered slowly and derisively, "that while my father's veela traits were recessive, they were still there and passed on to me."

"And in you, they're not turning out to be nearly so recessive. Surely you've known this was coming for a long time, though. I mean, you've had to have been setting things on fire since you were a kid."

Malfoy turned his head and glared angrily at Harry. "I don't need _you_ to rub it in!"

"I'm hardly rubbing it in. I don't see why you're so bothered by this. It's not something to be ashamed of!"

"It means I'm not _normal_. I'm not entirely _human!_ I'm some sort of _beast!__"_

"You can't seriously believe that!" Harry shouted angrily.

"How can I believe anything else? I mean, look at what you turned into last night! Some kind of giant _bird-monster!_"

"Hey! I happen to find it kind of majestic! And besides, it's absolutely brilliant to be able to fly without a broom."

Malfoy just gaped at him.

"And it's not like I _mentally_ change into some kind of crazed monster when I transform," Harry pressed on stubbornly. "I'm still _me_. My mind and my ability to think and act isn't altered at all. Not like a werewolf's is. Only my body is transformed; I can fly and I've got really wicked claws and even _I_didn't realize how strong I was in that form till last night. My vision is beyond description. I can see _everything_ and it's all so clear! We can see ultraviolet light in addition to red, green, and blue, and it's crazy how much extra stuff is hidden in that spectrum. Did you know that feathers have patterns that are only visible in the ultraviolet light spectrum? Oh, and I can see magnetism! And I _always_ know which way is north."

"Like some kind of bloody animal!" Malfoy snarled.

"It's an _advantage!_" Harry yelled back. "How is someone who can wield elemental fire _without__ a __wand_, inferior to a wizard! It makes us stronger! I makes us _better_, if anything!" Harry exclaimed before clamping his mouth shut rather quickly and trying to stomp out the guilt of voicing that secret thought aloud.

"You think we're better?" Malfoy whispered hesitantly, and Harry met his eyes and saw something akin to hope there, rather than the shame he'd seen there before.

Harry mentally fumbled for a moment, warring between saying what he thought was the _right_ or _proper_ thing to say, and what part of him honestly believed, which just happened to not be the most politically correct viewpoint, if he were being honest with himself. Finally, it was the worried, hope, warring with self-loathing, in Malfoy's eyes that made the decision for him. Part of him didn't _like_ this particular way of thinking, and yet another part of him secretly believed it, and he _knew_ it would appeal to Malfoy and his prideful ego.

"We're stronger and faster than them, and we can fly of our own power," he began quietly. "Even without completely transforming, we can make partial use of some of our advantages. Look at me – I'm not wearing glasses, am I?"

Malfoy seemed to blink with a sudden realization and he narrowed his gaze at Harry speculatively.

"You weren't wearing them last night either," he realized.

"No, I don't need them now. At least, not when I've got a partial transformation active, like I do now. Just my eyes, and only a portion of it, but it's enough. My vision is incredible. I can see for miles, and so many colors! Not to mention how wide my peripheral vision range is. No human-wizard can see as well as I can right now. No human-wizard could stand toe-to-toe against a werewolf and come out without a scratch. And if I ever find himself in a pinch and someone disarms me, or someone captures me and takes my wand away, I won't be defenseless.

"Even without transforming, I can wield magic _wandlessly_. Magic like _this,__"_ Harry said as he raised his hand, palm up, and focused for a moment. Suddenly a blue fiery form began to emerge from his hand, as if it were the surface of a lake. The form looked almost like some sort of water-serpent, or a leviathan. It's head was adorned with a crest of blue flames, and it even had a mouth that it opened and almost appeared to roar, sending even more blue flames licking outwards.

The blue fire-serpent twirled and coiled through the air, and Malfoy was transfixed by it's visage before him. His jaw was hanging open with unconcealed awe. Harry had been working on this all year long and was quite proud of the extent of the control he'd mastered over it.

"I didn't know you could do that with it," he whispered, his eyes still trained on the magical serpent of fire.

"Have you practiced with your fire much?" Harry asked, keeping the serpent coiling in the air and then having it start to coil its way around his forearm. It was warm, but it's flame couldn't hurt it's creator, so he wasn't nervous.

Malfoy shook his head shakily, still watching the flames. "Father always scolded me whenever I started fires," he whispered. "He trained me to control it just enough to make sure I never used it on accident. It was a shameful thing in our home. I wasn't supposed to use lesser magic like that. The magic of some sort of creature," he trailed off, sounding bitter.

Harry scoffed angrily. "People who think that Veela are _lesser__ creatures_, just have an inferiority complex," he spat.

Malfoy's eyes finally snapped away from the flaming serpent and up to Harry's face, looking confused.

"Inferiority complex?" he echoed incredulously.

"Yeah, that's right," Harry said, defiantly. "Deep down inside, they know that _creatures_ like Veela have a power that they never can. A power that's beyond their reach; that's more powerful than they are. We don't _need_ the crutch of a wand to use our natural magic, but we can still use one and perform wizard magic perfectly. We get _both_. You take away a wizards wand and what is he? No different than a muggle. But not us. We can do this-" he emphasized by suddenly turning the blue calmly coiling serpent into a huge raging ball of bright red and yellow flames that shifted from tear-drop in shape, into a spiral, and then splitting off into tiny balls that he sent sailing through the air across the partitioned off space around Malfoy's bed like arrows before he had them suddenly stop and disappear into a poof of smoke.

"Whoa," he heard Malfoy whisper under his breath.

"They're afraid of this power, just like muggles are afraid of the power of wizards. It's a magic they can't control or tame, and so they label it as unnatural, or inferior, or freakish," Harry said, in a low, bitter voice as he let the last of the flames fade away into nothing. "They try to make themselves feel better by claiming that they're superior because of their purity of blood, or something else equally arbitrary and fundamentally meaningless. Something that they can latch onto to sooth their wounded ego. And then they pass on those biases and bigotry to their children, who are taught to believe it from birth without ever thinking about it for themselves or using their own powers of observation to stop and actually look and _think_ about what they can see with their own eyes.

"It's fear. It's a lack of understanding. It's bitter, jealous contempt. But it's not true. You're not inferior because you ended up with dominant veela genes. Your _better _for it. It makes you _stronger_, not inferior. But only if you master it."

Malfoy was looking at Harry now with shocked wonder on his face. "I'm better," Malfoy whispered, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly and his eyes gleamed with something new and different. It wasn't just the normal arrogant pride Harry often saw in Malfoy, or had expected to see along with the statement 'I'm better' – it was something different entirely. It was almost like Harry was watching Malfoy heal, right before his eyes, from some old, painful, wound. Then he smirked. "My father's _jealous_. He didn't get this power, but I did. _I__ got_ something he can never have, even though he had even more right to it by birth than I did." But then Malfoy paused, frowned and his eyes clouded over with self-doubt again.

"But what if I can't do any of that stuff?" he asked, quietly, looking down into his sheet covered lap. "I'm only _one-sixteenth_ veela. That's like _nothing_. I shouldn't have gotten any veela traits at all. It doesn't even make sense."

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't work like that with the veela traits. It's all or nothing. They can remain dormant for generations of breeding with humans and still crop up seemingly by random chance. And when they do, you've got it all. It's not just a little bit here and there. Either their dominant and you get the veela traits, or it's recessive and you get nothing."

"How can you be sure?" Malfoy asked, skeptically.

Harry frowned and looked away, seriously questioning his own sanity for what he was considering doing. At this point, the only people that he'd told of his secret were Ron, Hermione, and sort of Sirius Black. And here he was, legitimately considering telling _Draco __Malfoy_, of all people.

He let out a heavy sigh, hoping he wasn't making a monumental mistake.

"Can you keep this a secret? For real, I mean. Don't even tell your father. _No__ one._ Got it?"

Malfoy seemed to waver for a moment of indecision before coming to a decision and nodding his head. "Fine. Not even my father. Do you want an oath?"

"Oath?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes dramatically as if he were seriously put-upon by Harry's lack of knowledge.

"_Merlin_, Potter, you weren't seriously just going to take me at my _word_ were you? An oath, you know a magical oath. Not something as extreme as an unbreakable vow – besides we'd need a bonder to do that, anyway. Just a simple wizards oath. If I break the oath, something nasty happens to me."

"What sort of something?" Harry asked.

"It's determined by magic," Malfoy said dismissively. "It's said that magic will determine the most appropriate punishment for the crime, and it seems to be true. I've heard stories of some truly awful things happening to people who broke magical oaths, but also some seemingly small and silly things happening. It depends on the crime and the size of the breech in trust."

"Oh... Okay," Harry said, still not entirely getting how _magic_ was to determine the punishment, but accepting it was still probably true.

"You've got to be careful of the wording of an oath," Malfoy said, slipping into something of a lecture-slash-haughty tone. He pulled his wand back out and held it in his fist, end pointing directly up. "I, Draco Lucian Malfoy, do hereby swear a wizards oath that I will not reveal to anyone else through intentional means or deception, that which Harry Potter is about to relay to me with the intention of secrecy, until such a time when he releases me from my oath, or provides exception to discuss it with any specifically denoted individuals. So mote it be."

A flash of light burst from his wand before it settled back down into the quiet calm of moments earlier.

"Wow. Language was a bit flowery though, don't you think?"

"You've got to be proper about these sorts of things, Potter," Malfoy said haughtily.

Harry felt the corner of his mouth turning up in amusement and it nearly shocked him. There was a time that he was sure that a remark like that from Malfoy would have just annoyed the shit out of him, and yet here he was finding it mildly amusing.

He shoved the weird thought deep down and pressed on.

"Alright well... okay so I'm a quarter veela –"

"A quarter? Seriously? But how? The Potter's certainly weren't Veela and neither were the Blacks! I'd know if they were, that's for sure, so how the hell are you a quarter veela?"

"I – wait, what do the Blacks have to do with it?"

"Your grandmother was Dorea Black. Surely you know that?" Malfoy exclaimed in an exasperated tone.

Harry just gaped at him and slowly shook his head. "No... I... I didn't. But, it's not like I even really know much about Sirius Black until yesterday. All I knew was that he was my dad's best mate."

"Yeah, well they were also something like second-cousins once-removed or whatever. It's been years since my mum made me study the Black family book of names. But I know that Dorea Black married Charlus Potter. They weren't able to have kids for ages, apparently, and everyone assumed that the Potter line was going to die out because of it, but late in life, they had their son James and spoiled him rotten. He was supposed a real brat and that's why Severus hated him so much. They were bitter rivals in school."

"Wait, whoa, whoa – _what_?" Harry exclaimed, feeling suddenly very overwhelmed.

"_Honestly_, Potter. Don't you know _anything_ about your family history?"

"Not my dad's side, apparently," Harry said, pulling a chair over and sinking into it rather numbly.

"So where the hell does the Veela come from?"

"My mum."

"I thought your mother was a mu – muggleborn?"

"That's what she and everyone else thought for years, but it's not true. Her parents that raised here were both muggles, but the man she grew up calling dad wasn't actually her father. Her mother had an affair with a very attractive French diplomat one summer while her husband was out of the country or something. Turns out that diplomat was actually a veela. He tried to make contact with my mum when she was younger, but my grandmother was ashamed of what she'd done and tried to keep him out of my mum's life. It wasn't until my mum was older and going to Hogwarts that he finally contacted her in secret and told her the truth. She needed to be warned so she could prepare for physical maturity and all the craziness that comes with it."

"So you mum was half Veela and no one knew it?" Malfoy exclaimed in shock.

"That's right. My grandfather had been trying to get in contact with me since my parents died, but Dumbledore blocked him at every turn and lied to keep me here in Britain. We figure he was afraid if my grandfather got custody of me, he'd take me to France and that would be the last that Britain ever heard of me. I would have ended up going to Beauxbatons along with all my cousins. As it is, all of the transfer paperwork is prepared and can be sent at the drop of a hat, should something happen here and I need to make a run for it."

"You're really serious?" Malfoy gasped and Harry nodded seriously.

"I am. There's a lot of shifty stuff that Dumbledore has done to me, that I've discovered since last summer, and it makes me and my whole family really nervous. When I was five years old and my accidental veela magic started causing a bunch of fires, Dumbledore actually took me away for a day and performed a magic binding ritual! He even _left__it__there_, even after I started Hogwarts. My grandfather had a specialist come in last summer and remove it."

"_Binding!_ That's disgusting! How _dare_ he? Is that why you got so much better in class this year? Because your magic was _bound_ before?"

"Yup," Harry said with a sharp nod, and fighting the smile that wanted to break across his face at Malfoy having noticed the improvement in spellwork.

"I already hated the barmy old coot, but even I never suspected him of doing something like _this_. It's criminal, you know! You should have him up on charges!"

"But there's no proof," Harry said, shaking his head. "And he's got too much influence."

"He hasn't got nearly as much influence as you might think," Malfoy said, tipping his nose up arrogantly.

"Yeah, well anyway – right now I'd like to just keep my nose down for as long as I can manage. So far, it seems like he still hasn't noticed that I'm no longer living with my muggle relatives, but who knows how long that will last. I think he's keeping his head sort of buried in the sand so that he can have deniability should it ever come to light how my relatives treated me. My grandfather figures that's the only way we've managed this long without drawing his notice. Either that or he _has_ noticed, and he's just keeping quiet about it and waiting for the right moment to act, which, well... honestly kind of scares me. I won't feel calm about the whole thing until I get to France next week, safe and sound."

"So you're living with your grandfather in France now?" Malfoy asked sounding both incredulous and impressed at the same time.

"Yes. In the capitol of the Veela Nation, Iledevol. I've lived with them since last summer. I went back to visit them over the holidays too. My grandfather's chateaux is where I started to learn about my fire control and my transformation and meditations. I didn't know a single thing until last summer. In fact, since my magic was sealed away before that, _everything_ I've managed now, I've managed in less than a year. If you started working on it, you could probably do much the same as I've managed in about the same amount of time... although, I _did_ have a tutor last summer, and without one, you'd probably have a harder time of it. I mean... assuming you wanted to learn any of it."

Malfoy looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded. "I can manage, I think. I can probably even get myself a tutor and keep it under my parents noses, if I'm cunning enough about it."

"Really?" Harry said dubiously.

"Assuming the person has other credentials for teaching besides just being someone who coaches Veela, I can always mask his hire under some other pretense. I have pretty much total control over selecting my tutors each summer now. Father is much to busy to pay them much attention, and mother doesn't care as long as I'm happy with them."

Harry was slightly surprised for a moment before rolling his eyes at himself. Of course Malfoy would get whatever the hell he wanted from his parents. He was _Malfoy._

"I can ask my grandfather for some suggestions," Harry offered with a shrug. "He probably knows who some of the best tutors are."

Malfoy just nodded his head in silent acceptance of the offer.

The pair were quiet for a moment, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Harry's mind was mostly mulling over the brief revelation Malfoy had let out earlier and finally he spoke up.

"So Snape hates me because he hated my dad?" Harry asked.

Malfoy just looked at him with an utterly dumbfounded expression. "You seriously didn't know that already?"

"No! I've never been able to work out why he hates me so damn much! I mean, he's definitely said things like 'arrogant just like his father' and all that rubbish, but I didn't realize that was the real crux behind him hating me so much."

"According to my father, your father was little more than a bully who was always getting special treatment from the teachers because he was a favorite of theirs. He tormented Severus from the day they met on the Hogwarts express as first years."

"Why do you call him _Severus?__"_ Harry asked, his mind latching onto that rather than deal with the gut wrenching concept of his father being a 'bully'.

"He's my godfather," Malfoy answered simply and Harry's jaw dropped. "He and my father were good friends at Hogwarts, although my father was older than Severus, of course."

"Your godfather? For real?"

"Of course. Why would I lie about _that?__"_

"And... and my father was really a... a _bully?__" _Harry asked hesitantly.

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond but seemed to hold himself back at the last minute before sighing and looking away.

"I really don't know, Potter. I'm sure that whatever your father dished out, Severus gave back just as hard. They were rivals or something. I imagine it might have been something like how you and I were always at each others' throats first and second year. Mother said that Severus was friends with your mother, even before they started at Hogwarts, and your dad didn't like that because Severus was a Slytherin. They fought over her and your father was the one who won in the end. He's probably bitter over that, more than some schoolyard rivalry. Your dad got the girl, and you're the living proof that he lost."

"You can't be serious!" Harry exclaimed, horrified by the mere _thought_ of Snape fancying his mum.

Malfoy shrugged. "That's what I heard. Obviously I wasn't _there_," he said with an over-dramatic eye roll and a drawl.

"Snape liked my mum?" Harry said, more quietly this time, but still incredulous.

"He's really not that bad. Okay, well, yes he is, if you're _you_. He hates you. But he's nice to me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Lucky you," he said, sarcastically. "Of course he likes _you_, you're his godson."

Malfoy just gave an unapologetic shrug. "Well, you've got your own godfather now. Of course he's a wanted prison-escapee, but I suppose it's better than nothing."

Harry nodded, looking thoughtful again. His mind still hadn't completely wrapped itself around this idea of him having a godfather. He'd already known, of course, but before he'd thought Black was a traitor and a murderer. Now he knew he was innocent.

"And I'm _related_ to him," Harry whispered with dawning shock.

"Distantly, but yes." Draco paused in thought, scrunching up his face a bit. "Let's see... Sirius Black's mother was Walburga Black, and her father was Pollux. Pollux was Dorea's brother. And Dorea was James Potter's mother. So that's first-cousin-once-removed, right?"

"Hell if I understand any of that," Harry said, shaking his head dumbly. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Because James Potter was born so late in Dorea's life, he's not actually at the same level of the tree as Sirius Black was. You are. So you and Sirius are second cousins."

"Didn't you say that Sirius Black was something like an uncle to you?"

"Well, not _literally._Sirius Black and my mother are cousins. So I've got the same relation to Sirius Black does, that he had to your father. We're pretty much in the exact same position on the tree."

"So you and I are related?" Harry said, and something deep inside him didn't like that idea for some reason.

Malfoy scoffed. "It's such a distant relation, it barely means anything. I mean, we're like third-cousins once removed or something like that. We barely share any blood at all. I'm more closely related to Bulstrode, and I definitely don't consider _her_ a part of the family."

"I'm related to Millicent Bulstrode!" Harry choked.

"_Potter!_ Malfoy scolded in exasperation. "We're from old pureblood lines, what do you expect? _Merlin_, don't be such a dolt. If you want to get technical, you're also related to two of your dorm mates."

"Huh?"

"Longbottom and the Weasel."

"No way!" Harry exclaimed in shock. "How so?"

"It's not like I've go the whole family tree _memorized_. But I know that the Prewetts are on there, and so is a Longbottom. And that's just from the Blacks. Who knows what families the Potter's intermarried with."

"Prewetts?"

"Weasel's mother was a Prewett."

"Oh." Harry paused and then pinned Malfoy with an annoyed glare. "Do you _have_ to call him that?"

"If he stops calling me Ferret, I'll stop calling him Weasel," Malfoy said in a falsely sweet voice that made Harry snort. Yeah, _that_ was going to happen.

Harry sighed and the pair fell into quiet again. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Ron had any idea that they might be related somehow. Or Neville for that matter.

"Hey, do you know if there's any way I can find out about the Potter genealogy? Or even look at the Black family tree thing you mentioned?"

"Well, because my mother was a Black before she married my father, she had her own copy of the Black Family Book of Names, and that's what she made me study from. Your family should have had a Potter one as well, but I have no idea what could have happened to something like that. Your godfather might know. Or Professor Lupin, I suppose, since he was apparently your father's friend as well."

Harry hummed and nodded his head slowly, still not entirely sure what, if anything, he could do on the subject. Finally he just shrugged it off. He was only vaguely curious, really. He _had_ a huge family, after all. A year ago, he would have leapt at the remote possibility that he held some slight relation to the Weasley's, but at this point it seemed so distant a relation, it was hardly relevant in comparison to his grandfather, uncles, aunts, and cousins.

Harry looked back at Malfoy, still sitting in bed, propped up against a small mountain of pillows and looking entirely bored.

"So how long are you stuck here for?" Harry asked.

"Not much longer. My parents are coming later to take me home to see our personal healer."

"You're leaving?" Harry exclaimed.

"Well, I finished all of my exams and there are no more classes. It seems pointless for me to spend the next few days at the school, especially if I'm laid up in the hospital," he drawled in an obvious tone. "Our hired Healer will be far more capable of tending to me than the school's medi-witch, and my recovery will be quicker that way as well. Also, I could hardly stand the ride back on the _train_ as I am. How dreadful!"

"Yeah... yeah, I guess so. With no more classes, there really is no point in you hanging around here any longer," Harry admitted hesitantly. "So when will they be here?"

"It should be soon, actually," Malfoy said frowning as he pulled out his wand again and cast a _tempus_. His eyes widened at the sight of the time. "_Very_ soon. You ought to leave, Potter."

"Huh? Why?"

"How the hell am I supposed to explain to my father why _you,_ of all people, would be here visiting me in the hospital wing? I don't think you need me to tell you that he doesn't exactly _like__you._"

"Oh... yeah. Good point."

Malfoy rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

"So I guess I'll go then," Harry said, haltingly, and feeling oddly disappointed that he had to go and that he wouldn't be seeing Malfoy again for months. _How__utterly__absurd!_ "I'll write to my grandfather tonight and ask him to look up some British tutors who can tutor a veela, but who also have other credentials, and send you the list, yeah?"

"They don't necessarily _have_ to be British – I've had a French tutor once, and and an Italian tutor, but that was actually for the language, so it was easier to cover for."

"Do you speak French?"

"Of course. We have family in France. And even if we are greatly estranged from them, we do still visit our French villa every few summers. I was taught French and Latin since I was young."

"Oh, darn. I thought we could cover it up by pretending you had an interest in learning French."

"I could always say I wanted a refresher," Malfoy said with a slight shrug. "The instructor would need to be good in other areas as well, of course, but I could say I chose a French tutor, specifically, because I wanted an opportunity to work on my French again. It's been years, after all."

"Alright. That might work then. I'll tell my grandfather that French tutors are okay too, so long as they've still got more specialties than just dealing with Veela." Harry finished with an accomplished smile. Feeling oddly excited by the prospect of exposing someone else from his life at Hogwarts, to his other 'secret' world of Veela. It was sort of exhilarating to think that he was going to giving someone else their first real glimpse into the world that he'd only just discovered a year prior and quickly fallen in love with.

It wouldn't be the same, of course. Malfoy was just getting a tutor and finally starting to learn about his Veela abilities and heritage. He would actually be going to the Veela Nation. But there was still something rousing about the whole idea of it.

"Alright. You'd best go. They'll be here soon."

"Right. I guess I'll... see you in September, then."

"Right," Malfoy replied awkwardly.

"Right. Well... bye." Harry stood up and started to make his way, jerkily to the dividing screen.

"Potter!"

"Hmm?" Harry paused and turned back to look at Malfoy curiously.

"Just... thank you."

"It's not a problem. I kind of like the idea of having someone else at Hogwarts who knows about all this veela stuff. Besides, you'll need to learn about it all so you're prepared when your allure kicks in."

Malfoy's eyes went wide with sudden realization at the mention of that, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. "Not just that," he said rather impatiently. "I meant for... well, when Black dragged me off, you just ran right after me without a second thought. You could have just _left_, or run off and gotten one of the professors to deal with it instead, but you didn't. And when Lupin turned into that great homicidal beast you stayed behind and kept him distracted so we could escape. I... I think it's pretty much a given that you've paid for that life debt."

"Oh..."

"So... thanks."

Harry nodded his head dumbly, not sure what to say. He'd never really been any good at accepting gratitude. Mostly because he got such praises so rarely. "Yeah, well... um... you're welcome, I guess."

"Right."

"We're back to this again, are we?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Just get out of he you dumb prat."

Harry found himself grinning at that. The words hadn't had the usual bit that Harry had come to associate with Malfoy insulting him. The words almost sounded sort of fond.

"See ya around, Malfoy. Have a good summer," Harry called out as he pushed the partition aside and began to make his way out of the hospital wing. He felt the privacy ward break as he passed through it and just as he was pulling open the large heavy double-doors, he heard the other boy faintly say, _"__You__too,__"_ before he passed out into the hall and left the other boy behind him.

– –


	5. When One Faces Ones Fears

Chapter 5 – When One Faces Ones Fears

That evening, Harry finished up his dinner in a rush and left the Great Hall early. He considered grabbing some food and taking it to Sirius, but then he remembered that the portkey would be dropping him off at the Chateaux in France, and they could see to his medical and food needs once he was there, so Harry didn't bother.

He collected his invisibility cloak and the pendant portkey from his trunk and made his way back down the various stairways, intent on slipping out to the Whomping Willow. He was early, but he figured early was better than late. As he passed through the Defense Corridor he noticed professor Lupin's office door slightly ajar and he walked closer to investigate.

Inside he found Lupin packing up several trunks and a suitcase with books, odds and ends, and papers.

Harry felt his heart sink.

"They sacked you," he said in a flat tone, and Lupin turned around and gave him a sad sort of shrug.

"I knew it was inevitable. I suppose I'm just grateful I lasted till the end of the year," he said in a tired voice.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, stepping through the door and closing it quietly behind him. "I mean... um... do you remember what happened last night? After you transformed?"

"No," Lupin said shaking his head. "I never really remember much of it, unless I take my potion, and even then it's spotty at best."

Internally, some piece of Harry heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

"They say I was awfully torn up. I must have really gotten into it with something in the forest. They tell me that none of you got harmed – well, of course, except for Mr. Malfoy's wounds from Padfoot. Are you really okay, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry insisted. "You didn't hurt any of us, and Si... er... _he_ seemed pretty much okay, I guess. I think his ribs were hurt, but just bruised, and he'll be getting some medical attention tonight."

"He will?" Lupin said in surprise.

"I've arranged something. It's a secret though, so don't ask me."

"It's best if I don't know," Lupin said, sadly shaking his head and sighing. "So Peter got away?"

Harry scowled darkly and nodded. "Yeah. He transformed and bolted as soon as you started to transform."

"I was such an idiot," Lupin growled with self-loathing. "I'm so sorry Harry."

"No – if you hadn't come in when you did, none of us would have taken the time to ask any questions or get anything straightened out. Who knows what would have happened. Pettigrew could have gotten away, anyway, and I still wouldn't know who was really responsible for my parents betrayal and Si..."

"Call him Padfoot, when we can't be sure whose listening."

Harry nodded. "Padfoot would still be on the run."

"But he _is_ still on the run..." Lupin said hesitantly.

"Told you not to ask questions," Harry said, giving him a playfully pointed look.

"Right. Okay then, I'll just trust that you're not going to get yourself in trouble. _Be__careful_, Harry. Fudge got wind that he was spotted here last night and he's back in Hogsmeade with some aurors and a few dementors."

Harry's eyes widened. That was _not_ good. Sirius was in Hogsmeade.

Harry nodded his head slowly. "Right. I'll... be careful. I really ought to go."

"Hang on there, Harry. One last thing."

"Yeah?"

Lupin dug into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a familiar bit of blank parchment.

"Since I'm no longer your teacher, I have no qualms with returning this to you," he said as he handed it over. Harry grinned widely at the sight of it.

"It was really created but you, my dad and your friends?" he asked, somewhat excitedly.

"Yes, that it was."

"Brilliant," Harry breathed. "Thanks!"

Lupin smiled warmly back and nodded his head.

A few minutes later, Harry was racing down the corridors again, and out the heavy wooden doors nearest the whomping willow.

After having examined himself fairly thoroughly in the mirror that morning, Harry had came to the conclusion that having his eyes transformed to this exact level, was unnoticeable enough, to just keep it the way it was, so he still had his rather advanced sight. With it he was able to spot the knot on the tree that wasn't quite the same as the rest of the tree. He aimed his wand and sent a stunner at it, and the next moment the tree went still, allowing him to crawl through the hidden hole at it's base.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever this time, but finally he found himself at the end and quietly pushed the trap door open and peered around. A great whoosh of relief poured form his lungs as he sat Sirius sitting in one of the chairs, apparently dozing.

Harry climbed out and the sound of the trap door closing behind him, jolted Sirius out of his nap and into high alert – wand drawn and all. He looked lost for all of one second before his eyes found Harry and relief seemed to flood his face.

"Harry!"

"I'm so glad you're alright. I just heard that Fudge is in Hogsmeade with some dementors," Harry whispered in a rush.

"Yeah, I felt them earlier," Sirius said with a shudder.

"You weren't seen, were you?"

"Of course not – unless you count Padfoot... er... they don't know about that, do they?"

"No, we didn't tell them. Although, it was really hard to explain away Malfoy's leg wound. We told them you had a trained dog with you."

Sirius snorted and shrugged. "That works. So the Malfoy kid went along with it all? That's surprising."

"He's not so bad," Harry said and then had a wave of '_what __the __hell __did __I __just __say?'_ rush through his mind. He shook his head and chuckled weakly. "He was awful my first two years, I'll give him that. But he's been nicer this year. Well, to _me_ at least. I don't think that he and Ron will ever stop arguing."

"I think the Malfoy's and the Weasley's have a documented family feud on the books. Have for centuries. Not sure if anyone quite remembers how it started."

Harry laughed and shook his head. He wouldn't doubt it, really.

"So what happened to make this Malfoy kid stop being such a git to you, but not your friend?"

"Er... well, it's complicated, I think. I don't want to say it out here, either. But maybe I can tell you when I get home for the holidays. You'll be there, waiting for me, right?"

"If your Granddad is really keen on putting me up, who am I to turn him down? For now, at least. I still intend to go out there and try to track the rat bastard down, though."

"Yeah, well, just don't do anything rash, alright? I've only got five more days here before the Hogwarts Express takes us all to London and my grandfather will pick me up there and bring me home."

"Okay."

Harry dug into his pockets and pulled out the pendant and handed it to Sirius.

"You're really sure about this, kiddo?"

"Positive."

"But this is _your_ emergency portkey. I'd never forgive myself if you encountered an actual emergency and you didn't have this because you gave it to _me_."

"I wasn't exactly wearing it before, was I?" Harry pointed out, despite his embarrassment on the issue.

Sirius snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but I'm assuming that normally you _would_ have worn it on that last day on the train and in the station. _That's_ when something could go wrong."

"I'll be fine," Harry reassured. "Right now, you need it more than I do. Besides, papy Luc could always mail it back to me in the next few days. Problem solved."

"Yeah, I suppose that's true. Okay, I'll take it."

"Good."

Sirius slipped the long chain over his messy tangled hair and let it rest around his bony shoulders.

"Have you got everything?" Harry asked.

"All my worldly possessions are on me."

"Alright then. I'm going to send you off. I have to activate it."

Sirius heaved a large, heavy breath and nodded his head. "Thanks Harry. Really. I'll see you in five days."

"Five days," Harry echoed with a grin and a nod.

He drew his wand and pressed the tip of it to the pendant on the portkey. "_Accueil,_" he spoke and a moment later a flash of light filled the dark and dingy room for all of one instant before vanishing, along with one Sirius Black.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Sirius had made it out and now he'd be in France, in the Veela Nation where he'd be safe with Harry's family. He smiled widely, feeling like he'd actually managed to accomplish something.

The smile slowly slid from his face as a horrid chill began to creep its way up his spin. A shuddering breath escaped his lips and a puff of frosty breath filled the air in front of his face. Dread filled the pit of his stomach as he turned around, stomach still drawn.

Filling the open doorway of the run-down, rickety old building, was a towering sector of ghoulish death. The Dementor seemed to float its way into the room with menacing horror, and an awful ratcheting sound seemed to come from it as it breathed.

Harry backed up several steps and stumbled over some broken bit of furniture, falling heavily on his bum. The Dementor descended on his now and Harry's mind seemed to have frozen over with dread. The monstrous thing towered over him and lowered itself towards him. The black veil over it's face blew away and all he could see was a single awful, lipless mouth, opening and sucking in all the warmth and goodness in the air.

Familiar, horrible screams filled Harry's mind's eye, and a sob wracked its way out of his chest as he heard his mother pleading for his life.

His mother.

Harry's eyes flew open with renewed determination and he aimed his wand at the monster. Pulling up the strongest happy memory he could manage, Harry focused all of his will into his wand and screamed out, "_Expecto __Patronum!'_

A white blast of light poured from his wand, right into the Dementor's face and suddenly taking on the form of massive talon'd feet, powerful curved beak and spread wings. It was a Harpy Eagle, Harry realized suddenly. Although his patronus had been corporeal for months now, he hadn't entirely recognized what sort of bird it was. But now he was sure of it. The Great Harpy Eagle of the central and southern Americas. The largest eagle there was.

He patronus eagle, of course, was even larger than they could get in the wild – although this was the largest he'd ever seen it get.

As the great white bird raked his claws and beat his enormous powerful wings at the beast, pushing it back and bring forth a great wailing of pain, Harry realized that the one that had been towering over him wasn't the only one in the room. Three more seemed to be in line behind it, and now, they were all being pushed back by his patronus.

Harry lay there in shock for several moments before his mind kicked into gear and he scrambled for the trap door. He dropped himself down inside the tunnel and bolted through it, racing back to Hogwarts.

– –

"I can't _believe_ you went by yourself! Hermione exclaimed furiously, several hours later when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had secluded themselves in the boy's dorm. None of the other third-year boys were around, so it was the only place they had any privacy at the moment.

"It turned out alright," Harry said defensively.

"Alright? _ALRIGHT?_ Harry Potter, you nearly got kissed by four ruddy Dementors! That is not alright!"

"Ah, but the keyword is _nearly._"

"I don't ruddy care!" she bellowed angrily.

"Hey, I'm find, alright?" Harry said, indignantly. "I mean, this is why I practiced the damn Patronus charm for months, isn't it? And I managed to protect myself from the nasty things, so it was worth the effort."

"Arrgh!" she growled as she turned away from him and began to pace angrily back and forth between the ends of Harry and Ron's beds.

Harry looked over at Ron with wide eyes, and the red-head just looked back with even wider eyes and shrugged helplessly.

Finally Hermione came to a stop and propped her hands onto her hips, authoritatively. "No more adventures this school year, do you hear me? I've had more than enough as it is. Dementors and werewolves and escaped killers and animagi... _enough!_ I want the next five days to be as simple and boring as possible. Do you understand me, Harry Potter?"

Harry and Ron both nodded quickly, still staring at her with wide eyes.

"Good. Now, what are your plans for the summer? My parents are taking me to –"

And then she was off and back into simple friend mode. Harry and Ron both seemed stunned by the sudden transition, but accepted it gratefully and went along with the new subject of conversation.

– –

The remainder of the term flew by in a flash. The end of year feast came and went, and the following morning Harry, Hermione and Ron boarded the Hogwarts Express out of Hogsmeade village and departed for London.

Harry had been nervously cautious the last few days, but still there had been no sign of Dumbledore being any the wiser. Harry still didn't know if this meant the man was legitimately ignorant of his situation, or if he was just laying in wait to strike at some opportune moment.

He wondered if he was becoming paranoid.

The trip to London seemed to last longer than it ever had before to Harry and when they finally pulled into the station, he was practically jumping out of his skin. Harry wasted no time in forcing his way through the crowd to get out onto the platform and then over to the baggage car to collect his trunk. Hedwig had been sent ahead to fly to France – Harry had asked her opinion on the matter since it had seemed apparent to him that she was entirely not fond of apparition, and he was fairly convinced from her trilling reply that she preferred to just fly – so her cage was shrunken down and stowed away in Harry's trunk.

As soon as Harry had his trunk collected he dropped it onto the ground, climbed up on top and began to scan the crowds for any sign of his grandfather. He grinned widely in amusement as a gathering of middle-aged women – as well as several younger ones – seemed to have congregated around one point along the back wall of the platform. They were all watching with slightly dreamy expressions, one aging man with auburn hair, streaked with gray, and kind, almond-shaped eyes.

"I found him!" Harry exclaimed to Hermione, who was standing on platform ground-level, smiling fondly up at her happy friend.

Harry jumped down and turned to smile at Hermione.

"You'll write over the summer. That's an order," Hermione said sternly. Harry just laughed, rolled his eyes dramatically and agreed.

"Harry! There you are!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, bustling over to he and Hermione, while practically dragging the twins behind her, and a bored-looking Ginny trailing behind them. "Do you know where my Ron is?"

"Yeah, he was just dragging his trunk off – there he is," Harry answered, pointing to Ron as he emerged from the crowd around the baggage car.

"Hey Harry," Ron said with an annoyed expression as he glared at someone in the crowd that had apparently done something to annoy him. "They're mad as a back of feral cats, I swear," he grumbled.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, they are. Anyway, I gotta run you guys. I already spotted my relatives, so I gotta run. I'll write, I promise. You write too?"

"Of course," Hermione said with a firm nod.

"Yeah, you bet," Ron said, grinning.

"Oh! Going already, Harry dear?" Mrs. Weasley said, looking around with worried surprise. "And you already spotted your relatives? On this side of the barrier?" she asked with confusion coloring her tone.

"Yeah, I gotta run! See ya around!" Harry said, hauling up his trunk and running off before she had time to think things through enough to try and stop him.

Harry squeezed his way through the crowds of women surrounding his grandfather, who was seemingly oblivious of their attentions. The moment his grandfather spotted Harry, he grinned widely and went over to sweep him up into a great hug.

"Harry!" he exclaimed. "So good to see you!"

"You too papy Luc!" Harry said back, laughing with the force of his happiness and relief as his grandfather set him back down on his feet. "We should probably try and get out of here right away. Mrs. Weasley was asking awkward questions and once she's got Percy rounded up, there's nothing holding her back from trying to track me down."

"Ah, alright then. The portkey I've brought with me is a timed one, but we can always use your portkey to return right now, if that's what you want."

"Sounds like a good idea," Harry said with a nod as he reached into his shirt and pulled out the pendant that his grandfather had sent back a day after Sirius had gone to France. Harry's grandfather, Luc held onto Harry's trunk handle with one hand, and onto the pendant in Harry's hand with the other. Harry pointed his wand at it, spoke the activation word and a moment later they disappeared in a swirl and flash.

Standing on the other side of the crowd, some distance away on the platform was a stunned and confused Molly Weasley. She hesitated for only a moment before turning back to Ron with a look that just _dared_ him to try and lie to her.

"Ronald, who was the man that just left with Harry?"

Ron gulped.

– –

When Harry saw Sirius again, the man was already looking better by leaps and bounds. In the five short days since Harry had sent his godfather off with the portkey, he's been fed and given top of the line medical attention. But in addition to the wonder of being in a comfortable bed for the first time in over a decade, and finally having his fill of food, if you asked Sirius himself what part of his new living arrangement that he liked the best, he would probably tell you it was the company.

Sirius did finally restrain himself from flirting _too__much_ with Harry's aunts and grandmother, since they were all taken, but that didn't stop him from flirting with the maid, the housekeeper, or the two nurses on staff. Being surrounded twenty-four-seven by beautiful Veela women suited him just fine, and Harry could do nothing but laugh at the man's antics.

There was a reason that humans were not usually allowed to live in the Veela Nation, and that reason was that they tended to make utter fools of themselves, being constantly surrounded by people sending out waves of allure that they had no natural tolerance against. But Sirius actually managed to hold his own fairly well, and didn't seem the least bit disturbed at the thought of 'making a fool of himself'. Rather, it seemed he probably would have been acting the same around _any_ beautiful women whether there had been any Allure involved or not.

But while Harry enjoyed the opportunity to get to know his godfather somewhat, and definitely appreciated some of the stories the man could tell him about his parents school years, Harry was mostly excited to be back with his family, and show off his now complete transformation to Alexis.

Even though Harry had had a great deal of success in the adrenaline-fueled and panic-driven adventure he'd partaken in the last week of school, he was still a total-novice when it came to flight and Alexis was more than eager to get started on instructing his older cousin and going flying with him.

Their summer tutor arrived a week after Harry got back and lessons in focus, meditation, flight, and additional exercises for his transformation were quickly underway.

Harry also got further instruction to prepare him for when his Allure would activate. He was turning fourteen that summer, and there were instances of the Allure activating that early, although fifteen was more common.

The summer passed in a blur of lessons, games, and flying. They also often visited various districts in Iledevol and the surrounding tiny villages that made up the Veela Nation. As long as they remained in the Veela Nation, Sirius was free to wander as much as he liked, and he didn't even have to don a disguise. No one really recognized him, and if any did, they didn't care or bother to mention anything. But that wouldn't necessarily be the case if they ventured out into Paris, so on their few trips shopping, Sirius had to remain behind.

He had pouted, of course, but the promised company of the housekeeper who had taken an especially amusing fancy to Sirius and his rather interesting sense of humor, he had relented and stayed behind willingly.

Early on in the summer, just as Harry had promised, he had sent a list of tutor recommendations off to Draco Malfoy, and he had apparently managed to get his mother to hire one of them to come in three times a week to give Malfoy private tutoring in 'ancient runes'.

Surprisingly enough, Malfoy had actually written Harry a few letters – once to brag how easy it had been to pull out his fire once he had some proper instruction and to state that he was easily going to have Harry's fire leviathan topped by the end of the next year, and then another time to excitedly exclaim that he'd managed to get some feather's to start appearing on his shoulders and the back of his neck.

Harry had found it strange but had also found himself smiling widely at the letters. But he could sort of understand Malfoy writing to _him_ of all people. After all, who else could Malfoy tell about this? He probably couldn't gush about his accomplishments and milestones to any of his Slytherin friends and certainly not his parents. And so Harry had written him back, encouraging and egging the blond on.

Of course he'd also written back and forth with Ron and Hermione, and had been decidedly unsettled to learn that Mrs. Weasley had seen him leave London with his grandfather and had then proceeded to grill Ron _and_ Hermione for details. She'd managed to get out of them that the man was Harry's grandfather – Lily's father from a secret affair – and that Harry had been living with him since the previous summer. They had _not_ told her that Harry and his Grandfather and family were living in France, and had _not_ told her anything about veela.

She had still been insistent on going to Dumbledore about this. Ron and Hermione had done their best to try and talk her out of the notion, but had no idea if they'd succeeded. They hadn't heard anything more about the matter however, and whenever Ron had asked his mum about it, she had refused to tell him anything.

It only served to make Harry _very_ anxious and on edge, and he watched his mail even closer than ever.

His birthday was a wonder celebration with the whole family and Sirius, filled with laughing, good food, and more presents that Harry knew what to do with. Much to Harry's astonishment, Malfoy sent him a birthday card and a small flat disk with runes carved along the outer circle for promoting good fortune, good luck, and good health. Malfoy had apparently even carved them himself and Harry found he liked it a great deal.

When his Hogwarts letter finally arrived, Harry had opened it with great trepidation, but there had been nothing unusual about it at all, and so Harry was left to wait anxiously again, not knowing if or when Dumbledore would react.

He was starting to wonder if Hermione's suggestion back at the start of the Christmas holidays that he just _talk__to__Dumbledore_ had some merit. It might be better to just get it over with on his own terms, than sit around stewing and worrying all the time.

Summer was coming to an end far too quickly for Harry's tastes, and the start of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts was now approaching. He owl-ordered from various shops in Diagon Alley to get the things he needed that could only be purchased in England, and bought the rest of his supplies in Paris when his family went shopping there in mid-August.

Alexis was going back for his second year, and was still the only one of Harry's cousins who was also old enough to do so. Sebastian, Alexis' younger brother was the second oldest and he had only just turned ten that year, so he still had one more to wait. Alexis was excited for his second year, and despite how much he knew he'd miss his family and his freedom, Harry was also excited for his fourth.

With only two weeks left before he'd be departing for school, his grandfather Lucas came home frowning quite deeply and then called his oldest son, Harry's uncle Leon and Alexis' father, into his private office to talk about something.

Harry hadn't paid it much attention, actually, as he and Alexis had been flying in their avian forms while Sirius soared around them on the Firebolt, but after a while the two Veela emerged from the chateaux and called Harry and Alexis inside for a talk.

The two boys transformed back into their human selves and raced inside, wondering what this could be about. They entered their grandfather Luc's study and sat down in the two chairs offered for them.

"Did we do something wrong?" Alexis asked straight away and the two adults were quick to inform them that, no, they weren't in trouble.

"No, actually, I just received some news in regards to your two schools."

The boys shared a worried look. "What sort of news?" Harry asked warily.

"Harry, have you ever heard of something called the Triwizard Tournament?" papy Luc asked.

Alexis made a small gasp but Harry just shook his head blankly. "No, I've never heard of it."

"The Triwizard Tournament was a magical contest held between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe; Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. The first tournament was held something like 1300 years ago, with each school being represented by one chosen Champion each. The Champions had to compete in three deadly tasks designed to test magical ability, intelligence, and courage and would generally be judged by the headmaster or headmistresses of the schools. Supposedly, the winner would gain themselves 'eternal glory' but I hardly see that as meaning much of anything since you'd be hard pressed to find many people who could remember the names of many who won.

"The point, however, is that the tournament was done away with because it was so ridiculously dangerous. _Many_ students were killed in the course of the trials, and the death toll finally got too high for them to warrant even holding the tournament any longer and it was discontinued."

"Alright... so... what are you getting at?" Harry asked as a sinking pit settled in his gut.

"I have just heard the disturbing news that the tournament is being revived this year. It has been underway since before the summer apparently. The British Ministry's Head of International Magical Cooperation, along with the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports have been working with the three schools and have officially got the ridiculous thing reinstated. From what I was able to gather, the tournament is planned to be held at Hogwarts this year, and they are supposedly instituting restrictions on it to make it 'safer' but I rather doubt anything they do will be sufficient. The whole purpose of the tournament is to be outrageously dangerous and I wanted to make sure that both of you knew better than to even _think_ about attempting to enter as Champions."

Both boys blanched and then quickly nodded.

"I swear, grand-pére, I'd never even consider it," Alexis insisted instantly. "I've read about some of the past tournaments and it was outrageous, what they expected students to attempt to survive."

"I don't even know what sorts of things are involved with this tournament and I already know I want nothing to do with it," Harry said, still shaking his head slowly. "I already end up in more than enough trouble each year. The last thing I want is to intentionally get myself involved in something crazy."

"Good," Luc said with a firm nod before leaning back in his desk chair and sighing. "This, reviving the tournament thing is destined to be a mess. I don't know what this fool Crouch is thinking, bringing it back. Lunacy!"

– –

"I'm going to miss you so much," Harry mumbled into his Grandfather's chest as the two embraced shortly after portkeying into Kings Cross station on the morning of September the first.

They'd already deposited Alexis at Beauxbatons the day before, and before leaving, Harry had said his goodbyes to the rest of his family, as well as Sirius. Now it was just him and his grandfather Lucas, and it was a harder thing than expected to say this final goodbye.

"And I shall miss you. But you know we are all just an owl away, and you have your godfather's mirror. Don't forget to use it."

"I won't forget," Harry said nodding into Luc's chest.

"And keep that portkey on you at all times, this time! I don't want to hear about it collecting dust in the bottom of your trunk."

Harry grimaced under the scolding reminder and then smiled innocently up at his grandfather.

"Don't worry. I'm wearing it right now and I'll keep it on, even when I sleep. Alright?"

"Good," Luc said with a firm nod. "Are you still planning to speak with Dumbledore early on?"

Harry sighed but nodded. "Yes. I need to just get it out there. The not-knowing is driving me crazy. And if he doesn't know, which seems pretty darn unlikely at this point, I'd rather the reveal be in a way I can control."

"A wise choice. I will be available to come to you at the drop of a hat, should there be any trouble. If it's urgent, call Sirius through his mirror. It will be quicker than sending Hedwig."

"Alright."

"Good. Now," Luc pulled in a deep breath and gave his grandson a sad smile. "You'd best be boarding your train. Come. I will help you get your trunk into the baggage car."

The pair crossed the platform and after only a few minutes, had Harry's trunk stowed away, leaving him with only one lightweight rucksack, filled with a few books, a deck of cards, and a packed lunch from his grandmere.

Harry pulled his grandfather into one last hug before pulling away and turning towards the train.

"Harry!" a familiar voice yelled and Harry turned to see Mrs. Weasley rushing across the still sparsely filled platform with several of her many children trailing behind her. "Thank goodness I caught you while you were still here," she said, huffing from the rush, as she came upon Harry and his grandfather. Luc gave Harry a questioning look and Harry jumped to attention.

"Oh! Right, um. Mrs. Weasley, this is my grandfather Marquis Lucas Merovich Conseil, of the Veela Nation. Papy Luc, this is my friend Ron's mother, Molly Weasley."

"Marquis!" Mrs. Weasley nearly shrieked.

"Whoa there, Harrikins, –"

"– did you say _Veela__Nation?__"_ Fred, and then George asked as they came up to flank either side of their mother.

"That's right," Harry said, standing tall and somewhat defiantly before deflating a moment later, "erm, I'd like it if you could keep that to yourselves though."

"Harry dear, I'm afraid that I'm still quiet confused. I'm sorry, Mr. Conseil, but I was under the impression that all of Harry's grandparents were deceased," Mrs. Weasley said.

"I'm Lily's biological-father, however her mother and I were never married. Lily's mother, Rosie, wasn't particularly proud of our coupling, because she was married at the time, to another man. She wanted to keep the fact that Lily was not her husband's child a secret, and as such, hid my existence even from Lily herself for most of her life. She didn't want to permit me access to my daughter because she feared the truth getting to her husband and ruining her marriage. However, I contacted Lily directly while she was at Hogwarts so that I could inform her and prepare her for her heritage. I knew that Rosie would not approve, but it was for the good of my daughter. I refused to allow her to come into her Allure, unprepared. It would have caused havoc."

"Her... allure..." Mrs. Weasley whispered, dawning understanding on her face.

"Merlin, Harry!" Fred exclaimed with a laugh.

"Are we to understand that you're part _Veela?__"_ George said, laughing as well.

"Er, yeah, that's right. But like I said, I'd appreciate it if you didn't go broadcasting that around. Alright?"

"No problem mate," George said with a nod.

"Yeah, we've got yer back. No worries," Fred added.

"Harry!" Ron's voice carried over the still mostly empty platform as he suddenly appeared from the archway entrance to Platform 9 ¾. "Merlin's pants, mum. What was with the rush?" he grumbled as he moved his trolly out of the way just in time for Ginny to appear next with hers, followed by Mr. Weasley.

"I told you, Ronald, that I wanted to get here early enough to try and catch Harry before his grandfather left!" Mrs. Weasley said in a scolding tone.

Ron grimaced and finally manged to get his trolly all the way up to the side of the train where the others were gathered.

Mrs. Weasley turned back to Harry's grandfather and gave him an appraising look. "So you've taken Harry in now?" she asked.

"That's right. I gained full legal guardianship over him, the start of the summer between his second and third years. He's been with my family and I for the last two summers."

"And he went to your home over the Christmas holidays?"

"That's correct, madam."

"Why was he hiding all of this? Why pretend to still be living with his muggle relatives?"

"Because I was afraid that if Dumbledore found out I'd moved in with my grandfather, that he'd try and find some way to send me back to the Dursleys," Harry cut in sharply.

"But what would make you think such a thing as that?" Mrs. Weasley asked, shaking her head and looking bewildered.

"I would be willing to discuss it with you further if you so desire," Lucas offered politely.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to scrutinize him for a moment before nodding her head. "I think I would like that. Arthur! Come here, dear," Mrs. Weasley called out, drawing her husband away from the baggage car where he was helping Ginny get her trunk stowed away. He came up and looked at them all curiously.

"Yes dear?"

"This is my husband, Arthur Weasley. Arthur, this is Harry's grandfather, the Marquis Lucas Conseil – did I get that right?"

"Right enough. It can be a bit of a mouthful," Lucas replied with a smile.

Mr. Weasley's eyes went a bit wide and his lips seemed to silently mouth the word 'Marquis' but he didn't yell it out like Mrs. Weasley had earlier.

A bit more discussion passed where Harry's grandfather, and the Weasley's made plans to have tea as soon as the train had departed.

Hermione and her parents showed up during that time and more greetings and introductions went around while baggage was stowed and Ginny and the Twins boarded the train to search out friends and ideal compartments.

Finally Harry managed to pull his grandfather away from Mrs. Weasley long enough for a proper goodbye. They hugged and Harry once again promised to write often. Finally they parted and Harry, Ron, and Hermione boarded the train and found themselves an empty compartment near the back of the train.

They were just in time too, because no sooner had they gotten settled in their seats, then the train began to pull away from the station. They all looked out the window and waved at their group of parents and guardian, still gathered on the platform.

Harry realized it was the first time he'd gotten to wave goodbye to someone at the train station, and he had to blink back the sting of tears for a moment. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, ever.

No sooner had they completely pulled away from the station, then Ron excitedly started into him.

"Harry! Oh, I can't believe it mate! I can't believe you missed it!"

"Huh? Missed what, Ron?" Harry asked in total confusion.

"The Quidditch World Cup, mate! It was brilliant! We had enough tickets, you could have come!"

"Oh... yeah, I know, but I wanted the time with my family. We went and saw a couple games in France over the summer."

"But those aren't _World __Series_ games, Harry! This was incredible!"

"I thought there was a Death Eater attack?" Harry replied shaking his head incredulously.

"Well, yeah, that was awful, but _the __game_, Harry! The game was brilliant! Oh, and the Bulgarians had _Veela_ as their team mascots! And they got into a fight before the game with the Irish team's Leprechauns and they transformed into that giant bird thing you did last spring and starting hurling _fire!_ It was crazy! But the game... _the __game!_ You should have seen the brilliant Wronski feint that Krum pulled towards the end!"

"You are _completely_ unbelievable!" Hermione exclaimed, rolling her eyes at him. "A group of Death Eaters attack a family of muggles and set the camping grounds on fire, _and_ set the _Dark __Mark_ in the sky, and all you care about is _bloody __Quidditch!__"_

"Whut!" Ron yelped defensively.

Harry just laughed.

The trio quickly got themselves settled in, catching each other up on their summer vacations. Harry hadn't been willing to even _mention_ Sirius in any of his letters, so he took this opportunity to quietly fill Ron and Hermione in on his godfather's new residence in the Chateaux de Faucon, and how he seemed to have gotten _very_ friendly with their housekeeper. Ron appeared entirely _too_ jealous, while Hermione just rolled her eyes.

Harry also told them about what his grandfather had learned about the Triwizard Tournament being held at Hogwarts this year. Hermione had gasped in horror and quickly gone on to quote several mentions from Hogwarts a History of awful accidents happening and students dying. Ron had just been filled with excited awe.

"Can you imagine it, Harry? Eternal Glory!"

Harry just laughed and shook his head. "No, Ron, I can't imagine it at _all_," he said sarcastically. "Honestly, you can have your glory and take it. I want nothing to do with this stupid tournament. The whole thing just sounds crazy to me. The only part about it all that interests me at all is that apparently there will be a delegation of students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang coming to stay at Hogwarts for part of the year. I almost wonder if there's any chance of my cousin Alexis coming and you two getting to meet him."

Hermione looked doubtful. "Well, surely they can't bring along the whole student body. There has to be a limit to who is allowed to be part of the delegation."

"Yeah, that makes sense. It'll probably be limited to those who actually intend to put their name in to compete, and Alexis promised Uncle Leon and Papy Luc that he wouldn't," Harry said somewhat glumly. "He's only twelve, after all. I'm fourteen and even _I_wouldn't consider entering the stupid thing. It's just suicide, really."

"Are you crazy? It'd be brilliant if I could put my name in," Ron exclaimed.

"I think _you're _the one whose crazy Ron," Harry said, giving Ron a dubious look.

"Ron, you do realize that they stopped holding this tournament because too many people _died_, right? In 1792 even the headmasters of the three schools were gravely injured and nearly killed by a cockatrice that got loose and went on a rampage. It was all in Hogwarts a History!"

"Yeah, but they wouldn't use a cockatrice _now_," Ron said dismissively. "Even Harry said that they've got restrictions in place for this year's tournament."

"I don't know Ron. I wouldn't count on it being dumbed down or easy. This tournament is supposed to be a big deal that pits the best of the three schools against each other. I really rather doubt a fourth year could get picked anyway."

Conversation eventually slipped away from the tournament and onto other things. After a while, Harry pulled out a deck of cards and tried to teach Ron how to play Belote, but Ron got bored after a while – apparently card games that don't involve things exploding weren't exciting enough.

It was about an hour after the trolly lady had come through and they'd loaded up on some sweets, that the door to their compartment was slid open to reveal Draco Malfoy standing there. But for once, he was there by himself – no sign of Crabbe or Goyle flanking him.

Harry's eyes widened and his brows raised slightly in surprise. He hesitated for a moment, but decided that there really was no reason for hostility, so long as Ron kept his tongue in check.

"Malfoy," Harry said in greeting with a small nod of his head.

Malfoy looked around the compartment for a moment, eyeing Hermione with slight derision, and Ron with an open sneer before turning his gaze on Harry. His face softened perceptibly and he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"Potter," he replied back with a nod of his own.

"What do _you_ want, Malfoy," Ron sneered.

"I wanted to talk to Potter. Is that a crime?" Malfoy drawled back.

"No, it's not," Harry said quickly, raising his hand to stall whatever it was that Ron was about to snark back. The red-head looked at Harry with an almost betrayed look before scowling back up at Malfoy. "What's up, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

Malfoy seemed to fidget for a moment with uncertainty, but it was quickly masked with his usual haughty mask. "I was hoping to speak with you alone."

Harry's mouth twisted up slightly. "Hmm... I think we'd have a hard time finding an empty compartment at this point."

"And I'm not leaving," Ron snapped an instant later. "Not like I'd leave Harry alone with _you_, anyway."

"Hey, I'm not the one what wanted to leave him to fight off a werewolf all by himself," Malfoy snarked back sharply, and Ron's face went red.

"Come on you guys," Harry said, trying to get everyone to settle down before hexes started getting thrown. Once he was sure that Ron _wasn't_ on the brink of drawing his wand he looked pleadingly at Hermione. "Do you think you two could give us a few minutes?"

She frowned and her eyes darted from Malfoy, back to Harry, and then back to Malfoy before she heaved a resigned sigh and nodded.

"What!" Ron yelled. "How come _we_ have to leave!"

"Come _on_ Ron. It'll just be for a few minutes. Right Harry?"

Harry looked questioning at Malfoy who nodded. "Yeah, just a few minutes. Maybe you can track down the trolly lady again and get some more sweets?" Harry suggested, looking hopefully at Ron.

Ron scowled but huffed out a conceding breath and began to stand up. "Fine," he grumbled. "But if he hexes you, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said gently as she stood up and the two maneuvered around Malfoy and left the compartment. As soon as the door had slid closed again, Malfoy's wand was out and he cast a privacy spell. He turned back to Harry and Harry was startled to see a bright excitement in his silver eyes.

"You've got to see this!" he exclaimed and Harry just stared at him with bewildered shock as Malfoy sat down on the bench across from Harry and held his hand out in front of him, palm up.

A ball of orange and yellow flames materialized in the air above his hand and stayed there a moment, shivering and wobbling while Malfoy focused, until it seemed to sprout arms and wings, grow in size, and slowly turn into the shape of an asian dragon – the sort with long thin bodies.

"Wow!" Harry exclaimed in honest happiness. "I can't believe you got that far in just two and a half months!"

Malfoy was beaming at him now; _glowing_ with pride. "It's brilliant, isn't it? I can't really animate him much, but I can get the shape right."

"That's still incredible. For me, it was easier to get stuff to move than it was to make it actually _look_ like something. This is beautiful."

Malfoy continued to smile widely under the praise and Harry looked at him and was overcome with the sudden thought that Malfoy was actually quite nice to look at when he wasn't sneering or scowling or looking all stuck-up.

"So I take it that Master Espicier was a good tutor, then?"

"He was brilliant," Malfoy exclaimed, tipping his chin up a bit, but still smiling too honestly to pull off his haughty mask. "He has masterful control over his Veela traits and neither mother or father seemed to even notice he was half veela. He had mother quite charmed, in fact, and between the two of us, we had them completely fooled. They had no idea what I was studying this summer." He smirked widely with his apparent accomplishment and Harry chuckled.

"Well um... congrats on deceiving your parents?" Harry said dubiously, but also with amusement. It's not like he _liked_ Lucius Malfoy any. What did he care if Malfoy was trickign his own father? The man was a bigot and a fool for making his son feel so inferior for being part veela.

"I knew I could do it all along. There was never really any concern," Malfoy said, haughtily and Harry rolled his eyes.

"So did you manage anything besides getting bloody awesome with fire forms?"

"Of course. I..." he hesitated and looked at the door to the compartment. He flicked his wand and all of the shades pulled shut, and the door clicked locked. "I can do this too," he said in a quieter voice before closing his eyes and slowing his breathing. Harry recognized it and sat on edge in anticipation, wondering how far into the transformation Malfoy could manage.

Sweat appeared on Malfoy's brow and his face pinched slightly with effort. Harry saw feathers begin to poke out from the neck of his shirt, and bunch up along the shoulders and back. His hair began to morph into a feathered quality, and looked to have gone almost completely white instead of simply platinum blond as was it's usual color.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw a bit of the upper mandible forming out of Malfoy's nose cartilage.

Malfoy made a pained sort of whimper before a whoosh of air seemed to escape him suddenly and he began to pant heavily, as if he'd just sprinted a mile.

"H'okay, that's... that's it," he said, between breaths.

Harry leaned back a bit and took in everything that he could see. Malfoy's feet and legs had started to transform, and had lengthened enough that his trousers were showing a lot of his ankle and lower leg, and his shoes were only just clinging to the ball of his 'feet'. His hands had shifted partially as well, and small talons were visible on the ends of each of his fingers, along with the leathery beginnings of the scales that would eventually be there.

"Whoa. Seriously, Malfoy, this is incredible for two and a half months! I didn't get this far until around Christmas last year!"

Malfoy looked up at him and a tired grin spread across his face. "I worked really hard," he panted, looking legitimately pleased with himself.

"I can see that. Wow."

Malfoy nodded weakly and let a long slow breath out before closing his eyes and making a slow shift back to his fully human visage. When he was back to his normal self he let out another sigh and opened his eyes again. "It's so hard to maintain the core shift," he said tiredly as he slipped his feet back into his shoes.

"It gets a lot easier after you've been doing it longer. I hardly even feel the exertion anymore," Harry said reassuringly, still grinning like a loon. He felt legitimately excited for Malfoy. This was just brilliant.

"Well, that's good to know," Malfoy drawled weakly before letting out a small chuckle.

Suddenly an impatient-sounding rapping came at the door, causing them both to jump slightly in surprise.

"Crap, Ron and 'Mione must be back," Harry said, and Malfoy made a resigned sort of huffing noise before pushing himself into a standing position and pulling out his wand. He flicked it at the door casting _finite_ a few times and Harry heard the lock release, then felt the silence ward fall, and finally the window shades rolled back up.

Ron was now visible on the other side scowling darkly while folding his arms across his chest. Hermione was standing beside him, looking unamused by his attitude.

"Right... well, I guess we'll have to resume this conversation some other time," Harry said, sounding quietly apologetic.

Malfoy nodded before turning back to Harry for one last thing.

"I heard from father after the last meeting of the Board of Governors that there's only one section of Runes for our year since enough people dropped the class that it no longer warranted two. We'll be in the same class now... assuming you're continuing it."

Harry grinned and nodded. "I am. That's cool."

Malfoy gave him a small smile in return before wiping it off his face and replacing his standard superior prideful mask and pulling the sliding compartment door open.

"Weasley, Granger," he said in disdainful greeting as he walked his way past them. "Later, Potter," he called over his shoulder.

"See ya around," Harry said back as Ron and Hermione piled into the compartment in Malfoy's wake. As soon as the door had slid shut again and everyone was seated again, Ron practically exploded.

"What the hell was that!" he bellowed.

"What was _what?__"_ Harry asked, frowning.

"What the hell could you possibly have to discuss with _Malfoy_, of all people? And why the hell couldn't we stay, huh?"

"It was just.. I mean, there are some..." Harry started and halted several times, just not sure what the hell to say to calm his friend down. Finally, he started again. "I offered him some help last year before he left – just after the whole mess with Padfoot and Professor Lupin?"

"What sort of help?" Ron asked dubiously and pinning Harry with narrowed eyes.

Harry huffed in frustration. "Help circumventing his father with something. He accepted my help and actually sent me a couple letters over the summer giving me um... progress updates, I guess. But I haven't gotten a letter since my birthday, so he was just... _updating_ me again."

"Circumventing his father?" Hermione asked, with interest.

"And how come you can't just tell us what this is about?" Ron asked, still sounding annoyed.

"Because, _Ron_, it's not my secret to tell. It's Malfoy's secret and he's asked me not to tell anyone, so I won't."

Ron snorted in contempt. "Not like he'd keep a secret _for__you._"

"Actually, he has. He could have easily run off and started telling people I was a veela, but he hasn't, has he? He also hasn't told anyone about Padfoot being an animagus."

"So he _claims_. You have no way of knowing if that were true."

Harry rolled his eyes with dramatic annoyance. "Fine, whatever, Ron. He's Malfoy, but I'm _me_, and when I promise to keep a secret, I do. Alright?"

Ron scowled even deeper and folded his arms over his chest, grumbling under his breath.

"You said something bout Malfoy circumventing his father?" Hermione pushed again.

"Yeah, but like I said, it's all a secret. His father has... um..." Harry paused, trying to think of something he could say that wouldn't actually give anything away. He couldn't think of anything. "Well, lets just say that I don't approve of what Lucius Malfoy has been doing in regards to his son – not that it's a surprise that I would disapprove of something Lucius Malfoy does," he scoffed. "So I helped Malfoy get some help that his father wouldn't approve of."

Hermione got a thoughtful look on her face for a moment before giving a determined nod.

"Alright then," she said.

"Alright? _Alright?__"_ Ron exclaimed. "How can you be okay with this? Harry's getting buddy-buddy with a _Malfoy!_ How many times has that prat call you mu... _that_ word? Huh?"

"He hasn't called me that since second year. He was a lot nicer to Harry last year too. Maybe he's growing up and learning to see beyond his father's bigoted views," Hermione offered reasonably.

Ron's jaw dropped and he gaped at both of them. "You've got to be kidding me! You've both lost your ruddy minds!"

"Maybe you should try being a little more open-minded and try giving people a second chance, every once in a while," Hermione snapped back.

"Second chance! Malfoy is an evil nasty git! His dad's an evil nasty git, his _grandfather_ was an evil nasty git! They're all slimy, lying, sneaks, and he's got you two tricked!"

Harry heaved an annoyed sigh and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Ron exclaimed.

"The loo. I'll be back in a minute. I need some air," Harry said as he pushed the door open and left. It only took a minute to find the nearest bathroom and he was glad to find it empty when he got there. He stood in front of the mirror and let his forehead fall forward, resting against the cool surface as he let a long, slow sigh escape his lungs.

He didn't know what to do about Ron. He didn't know how to explain why things had changed so much between he and Malfoy. He hardly held any animosity towards the blond Slytherin any more, and he couldn't even quite pinpoint the moment it had started to slip away from him.

He supposed it was after that first Care of Magical Creatures lesson last year when he'd pulled Malfoy away from Buckbeak. But something had possessed him to do _that_ in the first place. There was probably a time when he would have relished watching the arrogant prat get his due. After all, it was Malfoy's own fault for taunting the hippogriff in the first place. But something inside Harry had just sort of _compelled_ him to pull Malfoy out of the way at the last moment.

And after that, Malfoy had been different towards him. That was when things really changed, he supposed. But how could he explain that to Ron? Ron would only see the surface, or start imagining ulterior motives and suspicions.

Malfoy had even saved Harry's life when he went unconscious and fell off his broom during that Quidditch match, and _still_ Ron would only imagine ulterior motives. He'd even said that Malfoy had probably done it just so that Harry would owe him a life debt. Harry rather doubted that Malfoy had the time to formulate some sort of plan like that, while Harry was falling to his death, hundreds of feet above the ground.

It wasn't just the obvious things, like the hippogriff, or the broom, or even Sirius and then the werewolf. Sure, most of the previous year, the two had just avoided each other, but things had been different. And at some point during that year, the animosity had just drained away and all that was left was habit.

It took too much energy to hate someone, Harry realized. It was exhausting and it left you feeling empty and bitter. He was tired of hating Malfoy.

But how the hell did he explain that to Ron?

Harry finally dragged himself back to the compartment and found it filled with stoney silence. Hermione was pointedly reading a book – obviously having chosen to just _ignore_ Ron, and Ron was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest stubbornly. Harry realized that the remainder of the trip was likely going to be very uncomfortable.

– –


	6. When Truths are Revealed All Around

AN: Should I continue with posting one chapter a day? I've only got 10 chapters written, so you'll only be getting the one-chapter-a-day thing for a few more days before I have to actually write some more stuff. But I was wondering if I should try to push them apart a teeny bit more and switch to one chapter posted every two days or whatever... Either way, I think that they'll all be out by the end of the Thanksgiving Week-Off I'm getting.

Again, sorry for the way the spaces get dissolved by ffnet whenever something is in italics. There doesn't appear to be an easy way to fix it – just a very manual way where I actually go in through ffnet's web-editor thingy and find every place where the spaces got dissolved for inexplicable reasons, and put them back.

I also apologize that some chapters have more thorough editing and checking than others. I've already re-read bits and pieces and found a bunch of random errors and typos that happen when I write too fast and do re-read it very thoroughly.

– – – – –

Chapter 6 – When Truths are Revealed All Around

They did eventually arrive at Hogsmeade, and as anticipated, the mood had never really improved much. The three got into one of the carriages along with Neville, Dean and Seamus and road up to the castle. Harry leaned over the front and called out – _to him at least – _to the thestrals he knew were there, thanking them for the lift. They replied with their gratitude and Harry sat back smiling. Of course the others then asked him what that was all about and Harry went ahead and told them.

Ron and Hermione had already known about Harry's ability to 'horse whisper', but Neville, Dean and Seamus were taken quite by surprise. When Harry explained that he had a cousin who could talk to songbirds, one who could talk to different sorts of canines like dogs and foxes, as well as crups, and two uncles and both of his kids could talk to small mammals like rabits and marmots, they were totally shocked.

"Wait up there Harry. I thought the only family you had were those muggle relatives of yours?" Seamus asked.

Ron and Hermione were both looking at Harry with quite a bit of bewildered confusion, ever since he started talking about all of this. As far as they'd known, Harry had been planning on keeping this all a secret, and yet here he was blabbing it to the rest of his room mates.

"It turns out my mum's father wasn't a muggle, after all," Harry said with a shrug. "The man who everyone thought was my grandfather, technically wasn't, so my muggle aunt was actually only my mum's half sister. Their mum had an affair with a french wizard, and he found me two summers ago and took me in. I've been keeping it a secret, but I finally decided this last summer that it wasn't worth the hassle to hide it, so I'm not anymore."

"Why would you hide it at all?" Dean asked.

"It's complicated. Doesn't matter anymore, since I'm not going to bother with it anymore."

"Oh, wow. So you've got some huge family now, then?" Seamus asked.

Harry grinned widely and nodded enthusiastically. "I do. And they're all great. I've lived with them two summers in a row now, as well as last Christmas hols. I really love the lot of them. They're great."

"And they all have these talents with talking to animals? So that's where the parselmouth thing comes from then?" Seamus asked.

"Yup. Several of my cousins and my uncles and grandfather are all paselmouths."

"And here, everyone was convinced you were Slytherin's heir or something," Dean said with a dramatic eye roll.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"So... do you think your mum as a parslemouth and no one realized it?" Neville asked, timidly.

"Probably not. It tends to run along the male side of the line. None of my female cousins are parselmouths."

"Oh," Neville said quietly with a slight nod of understanding.

"She probably had the ability to talk with some other animal. I don't know if she ever managed to figure out what though. I had no idea I could talk with equines until I spent a whole day wandering around my family's property, visiting the stables and various paddocks trying to talk to every damn thing I came across."

They all laughed lightly at that, and the carriage came to a stop a moment later. They piled out and came in just behind a group that got completely drenched in water balloons by Peeves. They skirted around the puddle and made their way to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Before sitting down, however, Harry hesitated and told the others he'd be right back.

Ron and Hermione gave him questioning looks but he just held up his hand and turned to walk up to the Head Table. Dumbledore and most of the staff was already sitting there; although McGonagall was understandably absent. Dumbledore's eyes landed upon Harry as he approached and he smiled warmly.

"Harry, my boy. Was there something you needed?" Dumbledore asked genially.

"Er, sort of. Actually, sir, I was hoping that we could speak privately... after the feast, perhaps?"

"Is there something wrong?" Dumbledore asked, looking concerned.

"Um... not _wrong_ exactly. But I have something I need to tell you, so..."

"Yes, of course, my boy. That would be fine. I have a few things to attend to after the feast, and there is usually a staff meeting of the heads of house once all of the first years are settled into their new dormitories, however there is a span of about a half an hour immediately after the feast is concluded, before the heads come up to my office for the meeting. Would that be enough time?"

"I think so, sir," Harry said with a nod. "So directly after the feast, I head right up to your office?"

"That's right. Oh, and I'm quite partial to Ton-Tongue Toffee at the moment."

Harry nodded slowly, not entirely sure what the last bit was about before he excused himself and went back to the Gryffindor table. Of course the moment he sat down, he was inundated with questions. He simply told them all that he needed to discuss something with Dumbledore and had arranged for a meeting later, after the feast.

The hall was quickly filling up, and the noise level was reaching a deafening pitch by the time McGonagall appeared through the small anti-chamber door at the far side. She came out, spoke with Dumbledore, and then set up the three-legged stool and the sorting hat. Then she disappeared back into the anti-chamber just long enough to fetch the first years.

The hat sung it's song, the first years were sorted. Dumbledore said a few marginally nonsensical words, the food appeared, everyone talked enthusiastically about their summers, and finally announcements were made.

Dumbledore stood and began the standard ones like no magic is to be performed in the halls and the forbidden forest was forbidden, but then he ventured into new territory and informed everyone that the Triwizard Tournament would be held at Hogwarts that year. The hall was filled with the expected level of gasps and excited chatter from that. This took an instant turn down when Dumbledore then proceeded to inform them all that Quidditch was canceled for the year.

That settled it. Harry now officially _hated_ this tournament.

That wasn't the last set of news to induce groans of disappointment. When Dumbledore informed them all that no one under the age of seventeen would be permitted to enter their name for the Triward Tournament, there was no small number of exclamations of disappointment. Ron was especially outspoken on this point. Harry was just relieved. Now no one would even _expect_ him to enter.

The announcements came to an end, the school song was sung, and finally, everyone started to file out of the Great Hall – the first years being led by the prefects.

Harry broke off from his friends with promises to meet up in the common room later and then headed off towards the Headmaster's office. He got to the gargoyle that guarded the door and blinked at it, as he suddenly remembered that one usually needed a password to get inside. It was at this moment that Dumbledore's bizarre and seemingly nonsensical words from before finally seemed to _just maybe_ make sense.

_What was it he'd said? Oh! _"Um... Ton-Tongue Toffee?" he said questioningly to the gargoyle.

Apparently he was right, because the lifeless stone statue suddenly sprung to life and jumped out of the way, revealing an archway that wasn't there before, and a slowly revolving stone spiral staircase that he'd climbed only a handful of times before. He quickly got on and road it to the top, as he heard the gargoyle returning to guard position down below.

Harry reached up to knock on the door, not sure if the headmaster could have possibly beat him there since he was pretty sure he'd left the Great Hall before the other man had... but he was apparently wrong in that because a moment before his hand even rapped against the wood he heard Dumbledore's sound from within, beckoning him inside.

Harry pushed the door open and looked around hesitantly, suddenly feeling the full weight of his nerves in regards to what he was about to do.

"Ah Harry. Do come in. Come in," Dumbledore welcomed him warmly, motioning towards a plush armchair that was placed opposite his wide dark wood desk.

Harry sat down and fidgeted for a moment, trying to resolve his nerves.

"Sherbet Lemon?" Dumbledore asked, offering him the bowl.

"Er, no thanks, sir," Harry refused and the bowl was returned to its place.

"Now, Harry, I assume that there was something of import that you wished to discuss with me?" Dumbledore said, folding his hands on his desk and leaning forward somewhat.

"Yes, sir. Actually... I'm not living with the Dursley's anymore."

"Yes of course. Go on," Dumbledore said lightly, still smiling plainly as if he was obviously already aware of this fact and still expecting Harry to say something else.

Harry blinked at him. "You already knew?"

"Of course I knew, Harry. I've known since the day your aunt Petunia signed away her rights to you."

Harry gaped slightly but quickly shook himself out of his shock.

"Wait, how?"

Dumbledore's face softened slightly with something Harry thought was sadness and regret. "The wards around Privet Drive fell the moment she signed that contract, Harry. It was a magical contract that your grandfather had prepared, of course, and even when a muggle signs it, it becomes magically binding. Petunia signed away all of her rights to you in any way imaginable, and, in essence, magically disavowed her relationship to you. Magically binding agreements are very powerful but also very delicate things, and most certainly not something to be trifled with.

"Once it was signed, the blood wards that tied you to her, as your mother's half-sister, broke, instantly. The wards fell apart within moments, and I was, of course, notified."

"Oh," Harry said simply, feeling slightly stunned by this. "So... so you've known all along?"

"But of course," Dumbledore said simply.

"And you're not going to try and insist I go back to the Dursley's?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Oh, now what could possibly be the use in doing something as unpleasant as that?" Dumbledore said, shaking his head and looking rather saddened again. "As I said, the wards fell. And with the way your link to your aunt was broken, there really is no way I could ever restore them. Being in the home of a blood relative of your mothers was the only protection you had there, and now even that is gone. Leaving you with defenseless muggles would do no one any good."

Dumbledore hesitated them and looked slightly conflicted for a moment before sighing sadly. "Besides, Harry, I have already done wrong by you in more ways than I can bare to stand. I could never in good conscious ask that you give up a loving family that wants you, and that makes you happy, and instead return to one that has done nothing but show time and time again how very little they want you or care for you. I have made many very difficult decisions in my years, and looking back, there are more than I would like, that I regret. And yet, I cannot say for sure that I would have been able to make any other choice, even given the chance to choose again."

He heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together on his chest and running them absently up and down his beard. "I can apologize to you, to the end of the earth, Harry, and still I think I would be an outrageously fortunate old man to ever truly gain your forgiveness or ever earn back the trust that I have certainly lost in your eyes. No doubt by now you have come to realize a great number of things that have lessened me in your eyes. I have done things to you that I am not proud of. Things that I felt needed to be done, even while I hated myself for doing them.

"One can say that when running a war a person has to look at the bigger picture – the good of the many, weighed against the good of the few – and sacrifices have to sometimes be made. However such sentiments often ring quite hallow when you turn out to be one of those few who finds themselves sacrificing the most."

Dumbledore went quiet then, and bowed his head slightly, as if awaiting his fate.

Harry just sat there, feeling overwhelmed and utterly dumbfounded. This was _not _what he had been expecting. Finally he swallowed the lump that had some how manifested in his throat and tried to pull himself together.

"Why did you do it?"

"My motives are pure, but they are certainly no excuse for the suffering I know you endured when you did not necessarily have to."

"I still want to know," Harry said a little harsher this time.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "It is a very complicated issue, Harry. There are things that you do not, and can not yet understand at play. I felt, at the time of your parents death, that it was of the utmost importance that you be raised in Britain. That was of the greatest importance, and while I knew that your grandfather was a close blood relative, and one that would care for you with love and kindness, I also knew that he based his home in France and would obviously take you back there with him. I could not risk that you would grow up and not consider Britain your home."

"And so you left me with my aunt Petunia?" Harry asked, with angry incredulity. "Even after she wrote to you and insisted she didn't want me? Even after you had a spy down the street to tell you how they were treating me? Even after you _saw_ that they were keeping me locked in a cupboard!"

Dumbledore's face crumpled in grief and he bowed his head. "I _am_ sorry, Harry," he whispered.

"But you wouldn't change it, even if you could?" Harry said, accusingly.

"I cannot yet say for sure," Dumbledore whispered. "You needed the protection of a close-blood relative of your mother to foster the protection left in you by your mother. You're return to the Dursley's home each summer charged the wards there, that is true, but being near your aunt also charged the protection that lives in your veins. Now, being near your grandfather serves that purpose. But those are the only two people that could perform this necessity for you, and I knew your grandfather would take you to France. It _had_ to be your aunt."

"The protection in my veins?" Harry asked, frowning in confusion.

"There is magic left within you by the magic of your mother's love and sacrifice, as well as the result of a magical contract that Voldemort inadvertently made and then broke."

Harry's eyes widened and he sat forward some. "Magical contract?"

Dumbledore sat forward and seemed to pause for a moment, considering his words. "Before Voldemort went after you and your parents, he made a promise to someone that he would spare your mother's life. In making that promise, I believe that magic recognized it as a binding agreement. _Magic_ decided to hold Voldemort to his word, but your mother _gave up_ her life willingly, in exchange for yours. So when Voldemort went to kill you, magic punished him for it. That is what I believe happened."

Harry sat there, gaping slightly and running this over in his mind several times. It made more sense than any other empty explainable he'd heard to date. Most people seemed to think it was something that _Harry_ had done, which he was sure was utter rubbish. Harry frowned then.

"Who... who did he make the original promise to? Who would ask him to spare my mum?"

"Ah, Harry, but that is not my secret to tell," Dumbledore said with a sad smile and a shake of his head.

Harry scowled slightly, but gave it up quickly. After all, hadn't he used much the same excuse earlier that day when Ron had wanted to know what was going on with Malfoy? But then again, that was none of Ron's business, and it could be argued that this was very much Harry's business. He sighed and shook his head.

"Tell me one thing," Harry said after a moment's pause and Dumbledore nodded his head. "Why did Voldemort come after me that night?" Harry asked in a flat, calmly demanding tone.

Dumbledore heaved a heavy sigh and sadly shook his head. "Ah, Harry. I fear that once again you have asked a question that I cannot –"

"Was it some sort of Prophecy?" Harry asked, cutting the headmaster off.

Dumbledore's head came up and he blinked at Harry. "Prophecy?" he asked with some small hint of surprise. "What would make you ask that?"

"My grandfather is in the Veela Nation's Royal Family – not in the main line of ascendance, but all members of the royal family work for the nation unless they choose to move into the private sector. My Grandfather has held a high position within our government for most of his life and is intimately familiar with it's running and it's secrets. The Royal Family employs a triad of seers and back during the war they made a prophecy that seemed to suggest that I would have something to do with Voldemort's first war coming to an end."

Dumbledore's eyes were wider than Harry had ever seen them before, and his white bushy eyebrows had risen into his forehead. "I would very much like to hear this prophecy," he whispered.

"And I would very much like to hear whatever prophecy it is that _you_ have," Harry said with a pointed, accusing edge.

"Ah... it would seem that you've found me out then," Dumbledore conceded then and ducked his head and smiled slightly. "You are right, Harry. I had hoped to give you more years before hefting such a heavy and demanding burden upon your shoulders. But it seems there is little to no point in holding back now. There _is _a prophecy concerning you and Voldemort."

"It doesn't just end with the last war though," Harry assumed.

"That is correct. It is one of the main reasons that I was convinced that he would return, and as we've seen, he has already made at least one obvious attempt in your first year, not to mention the occurrence of your second year."

"And you think that he'll eventually come back for real. Completely _back_ and alive?"

"I do," Dumbledore said, nodding gravely.

"And I'm going to be involved some way? This prophecy says so?"

"You will," Dumbledore said sadly.

"And you were afraid that if I went to France, it wouldn't happen – I wouldn't be here to deal with Voldemort whenever he came back, or I just wouldn't care because it would be a British problem and I wouldn't consider myself British? Is that what you thought?"

Dumbledore leaned back again and sighed, nodding his head. "Yes," he whispered.

Harry nodded his head slowly before refocusing again. "Okay, so what is it? What's the prophecy?"

Dumbledore went to open his mouth when suddenly Fawkes trilled quietly drawing his attention for a moment before he then looked over at one of the many, overly-complicated-looking clocks on the wall. "Ah... it would seem that the heads of house will be here shortly."

Harry scowled sharply, not at _all_ liking being delayed in this.

"However, you definitely deserve to know the answer to your question. I feel, however, that perhaps your grandfather ought to be here to hear it as well. Don't you agree?"

Harry blinked and nodded his head hesitantly.

"You will, no doubt, relay it to him, and as he is your legal guardian now, he deserves to know. Now, I think it would be best for you to send word to him and see if he will be able to come to the school some evening this week and we can discuss these matters in more depth and with fewer time constraints. And we will, of course, go over the Prophecy and how it applies to you. Is that acceptable, Harry?"

Harry's mouth floundered slightly for a moment before he sighed and nodded his head. "Yes, I suppose that's probably best. I'd like for papy Luc to be here, anyway."

"Good," Dumbledore said and a smile returned to his face. A moment later Harry heard the faintest of sounds; almost like a very quiet bell, and Dumbledore's gaze shifted to some point in his office before he glanced over at the door. "Come in, Minerva; Severus," he called out and Harry twisted around in his chair to see the door opening to reveal Professor's McGonagall and Snape.

Both of them seemed to be in the middle of a conversation and had come quite a ways into the office before they even realized Harry was there.

"What is Mr. Potter doing here?" McGonagall exclaimed in surprise.

"Already getting into trouble, Potter?" Snape drawled.

Harry just glared at him.

"Oh, hardly. Harry and I were just having a much over-due conversation. Oh, and Minerva, seeing as how you are Harry's head of house, I suppose you should know that Harry is no longer in the care of his muggle relatives. Petunia signed over her guardianship rights and responsibilities to Lily's father, who lives in Southern France with his family. Harry was with them this last summer."

"What?" McGonagall blanched. "Lily's _father?_ I thought he died in her sixth year!"

"That was her mother's husband, but not her biological father. Lily's father is very much still alive and living in France."

McGonagall gaped for a moment, her mouth floundering uncharacteristically. "I had no idea," she finally muttered a moment later before looking over at Harry. "You spent the summer in France?"

Harry grinned. "Oui, j'ai frait." _*(Yes, I did.)_

McGonagall blinked at him while Snape made an overly exaggerated eyeroll-sneer combo.

"Ah! I hadn't even thought of that. How is your French, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, smiling enthusiastically, and eyes twinkling.

"I'm fluent, sir," Harry answered simply.

McGonagall looked surprised, while Snape looked like he was sure that Harry was just lying.

"How wonderful! As you heard at the announcement from the Feast, a contingent of Beauxbaton's students will be coming to stay in the castle for most of the year and not all of them speak English all that well. We were hoping that a few of our students who were fluent in both English and French might be willing to volunteer to give a few tours and try to generally make the Beauxbatons students feel more welcome here. Perhaps you could help with that."

Harry shrugged. "Sure, I could probably do that. I know a few Beauxbaton's students, although I have no idea if any of them will be in the contingent."

"You do?"

"Well, my cousin Alexis goes to Beauxbatons, and a few of his friends visited over the summer. But he's only just now going into his second year, so they'd all be too young. But the family also attended a few social events and I met others who were closer to my age. My cousin Adelle's best friend Gabby has an older sister who visited a few times and she and I got to talking. I think she's be around the right age for those who will be coming, but I really don't know," Harry said with a shrug. "Either way, I'd be happy to help out."

"Wonderful!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Now, I suppose that we are done enough with our conversation for now. Do let me know when you hear back from your grandfather as to a time he can come to the castle for that meeting."

"Yes, sir," Harry said recognizing the dismissal for what it was. Moments later, Harry found himself riding the spiral staircase back down and walking out past the gargoyle and heading towards Gryffindor tower.

He passed a rushing Professor Sprout as he went, but no one else until he got to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He realized suddenly that he had no idea what the password was and groaned at his own scatterbrained state before his meeting with the headmaster. He'd been so stressed and anxious, it hadn't even occurred to him to ask one of the prefects before leaving the Great Hall.

Harry looked up at the painting of the Fat Lady who was looking down at him expectantly. "Can you ask one of the portraits inside the common room to get someone to come open the door for me? Tell them it's Harry Potter and I don't have the password yet."

The fat lady agreed and disappeared from her portrait for only a moment before appearing again and telling him that she relayed the message to one of the other portraits. A minute later, the portrait swung open and a second year that Harry only vaguely recognized stuck his head out and blinked at Harry owlishly.

"Thanks," Harry said quickly as he squeezed past and worked his way into the common room. He found Ron already deeply embroiled in a game of chess so he turned and found Hermione sitting on one of the chairs by the fireplace reading. She spotted him and waved him over hurriedly. She didn't waste any time in grilling him on what had happened with the headmaster and asking him why he had suddenly decided to confront Professor Dumbledore instead of continuing to keep it all a secret. Ron eventually decimated his opponent and joined them, getting filled in on what he'd missed.

The night finally grew too late to remain awake much longer, and Hermione pointed out that they had classes the following morning and should get some sleep. They split at the stairs and Harry and Ron headed up to the fourth year boys dorm.

– –

Harry didn't waste any time in sending a letter off to his Grandfather the following morning, and got one back the following afternoon, stating that he'd just finished arranging for an international portkey for the coming Saturday, and that he would be able to be there almost the entire day, so whatever time worked best for the Headmaster would work for him.

Harry sent a note off to Dumbledore at breakfast on Wednesday, and got one back by the afternoon suggesting Saturday afternoon at 2 o'clock.

Harry's classes were progressing well enough. He and Malfoy did have Ancient Runes together now, as Malfoy had expected, but there hadn't exactly been any opportunity to interact with him during the two classes they had that week. Harry had sat next to Hermione, while Malfoy had been on the other side of the room with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Harry wasn't all that surprised that Crabbe and Goyle weren't present, since he recalled seeing them in Divination that one class he'd gone to at the start of last year, and he knew they were also in Care of Magical Creatures.

With Ancient Runes added in, Harry now had three classes shared with Malfoy – Potions, Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures. The only one with any opportunity to interact was Creatures, and even then, Malfoy still seemed hesitant to approach him. Harry wasn't even sure why he wanted him to.

_Did he want him to? He sort of did. That was weird, wasn't it?_

Ron had seemed to completely forget that he was annoyed with Harry and Hermione on the train, because everything had been back to normal as soon as classes had started. Once again, he complained about not having either of them with him in Divination and Hermione asked him why he didn't just drop the class, if he hated it so much. Ron had balked at that idea. There was no way his mother would ever let him get away with that.

It was bad enough that Percy had graduated with nine bloody NEWTs the previous year. Ron wasn't even taking nine classes!

As Saturday drew near, Harry began to wonder about this prophecy business more and more. He was both very nervous, and very anxious to find out what Dumbledore's prophecy said. The one that the Veela triad had foretold during the war was clearly ended. It mentioned nothing specific beyond Voldemort vanishing and Harry surviving it, but whatever it was that Dumbledore had, obviously went beyond that. Whatever it said was apparently a big enough deal that Dumbledore felt justified in having left a defenseless baby in the hands of hateful, abusive, muggles.

By the time Saturday morning rolled around, Harry had worked himself up into quite a state, and found himself pacing the grounds with anxious energy as he waited for his Grandfather to appear at the front gates. The International Portkey he'd arranged was going to drop him off in Hogsmeade and he'd walk up the path from there. Harry was starting to worry that Lucas had missed his portkey when the man finally came into view from the gates and Harry rushed forward to greet him.

Luc had, of course, arrived quite a bit earlier than the meeting was scheduled for, so Harry spent the morning giving his grandfather a tour of the school and introducing him to a few of his classmates. Quite a few girls made goggle-eyes at him, and he was clearly attracting attention where ever he went. Harry rolled his eyes at their antics, and Ron grumbled at one point, wondering when _Harry_ was going to start drawing in such an annoying amount of attention. Hermione had actually given Harry a considering look at this comment, cocking her head to the side and inspecting him.

Harry had blanched slightly at her scrutiny and felt himself flush with embarrassment. Ron seemed to be flushing as well, but for an entirely different reason.

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Harry starts drawing in the girls very soon. I've already heard a few people talking about how much better he looks this year without his glasses and such," Hermione mused.

Harry's eyes widened at the prospect. Intellectually he knew that at some point his veela allure would kick in more and he's start attracting all sorts of unwanted attention, but it somehow hadn't entirely sunk in yet that it could be happening _sometime soon._ It was always one of those distant, _future_, worries.

"B-but I thought his allure thing wasn't supposed to happen till fifteen or sixteen!" Ron exclaimed and his voice actually broke with something akin to panic.

"Well, that's technically true, Ron," Hermione said with a shrug, "but I think he's also been taking on more and more veela physical attributes in the last year. Harry is really growing into himself. Even without the allure, the girls are definitely going to find him attractive. Do you honestly think that Harry's grandfather has his allure turned on right now? Surrounded by school children? And yet look at the crowd he's gathering! Veela just _radiate _physical appeal. Humans are especially susceptible to it."

Harry grimaced at the reminder. The idea of having girls following him around making goggle-eyes at him and randomly spouting out ridiculous boastful nonsense was downright revolting.

He hadn't really given it much thought, but he had changed a lot in the last year. Ever since the binding was removed, his veela nature had asserted itself quite powerfully. His hair was softer and shinier, and yet it still managed to stick up every which way in an untamable nest. His Aunt Lucienne, however, had insisted that it was a _good_ look for him. She said it looked 'intentionally' messy, which he thought was just silly. He certainly didn't do anything intentional with it, and he couldn't see how 'intentionally messy' was a good thing anyway.

His skin was clear – not even the faintest sign of the blemishes that plagued so many of his teenaged peers – and he'd gotten a lot taller, which _thrilled_ him since he'd always been so ruddy short.

He didn't really see it himself, but this wasn't the first time someone had mentioned to him how well he was growing up, or that he was looking nice. It always made him self-conscious and uncomfortable, honestly. He _really_ wasn't looking forward to being randomly mobbed.

Harry heaved a sigh, knowing there really wasn't anything he could do to stop the inevitable and returned to his Grandfather's side, to resume the tour of the school to some other part of the castle.

–

When two o'clock rolled around, Harry led his Grandfather up to the headmaster's office and provided the password that had been included in his last note from the headmaster. They rode the spiral stairs up to the door and were called inside before they could even knock.

Dumbledore was inside, sitting at his desk, but there was an addition that Harry had not seen there the last time he visited. Sitting on the Headmaster's desk and a large shallow stone basin with intricate-looking runes carved around the outside. Harry recognized some, but most were a mystery to him. It looked _very old_, and seemed to have a swirling silvery liquid of some sort floating inside it.

"Ah. It's a pleasure to see you again, Marquis Conceil," Dumbledore said as he stood up and extended his hand. Lucas gave him a rather cold and calculating look but extended his hand as well and the two shook.

"Likewise," Lucas said curtly, and Harry had to duck his head to hold back the curling of amusement at the corners of his mouth from showing. He knew unequivocally, that his grandfather did _not_ like the headmaster, at all, and did not find it a pleasure to see him again. Harry himself was still rather conflicted on this subject. He _definitely_ was still angry about what had been done to him, but at least Dumbledore hadn't tried to pretend like he hadn't done anything, or that nothing he'd done was actually _that bad_. He _had_ apologized for it – but was an apology really enough?

Harry supposed it would depend a great deal on what this prophecy had to say.

"So, Harry tells me that you've known about him being in my custody since the very day I went and got him," Luc started. "I can see how you would have known quite quickly about him having been removed from the Dursley's home, given that the wards apparently fell, but I'm curious how you came to realize that he was with _me_, specifically?"

"I asked Petunia," Dumbledore said simply.

"Ah. Well, that certainly would be sufficient. I must admit, considering how much trouble you gave me in my attempts to contact my grandson, I'm surprised you didn't confront us straight away."

"As I told Harry during our chat the first night back here at Hogwarts, there was very little point in taking such an action. There really was only one place, besides Petunia's home, where Harry could continue to maintain the protection from his mother's sacrifice, and that place was living with you. The contract you had Petunia sign prevented any possibility of my ever returning Harry to her care, so no matter what, you would have remained the only alternative."

Lucas seemed to sit and scrutinize Dumbledore for several moments, seemingly trying to identify whether or not he was being lied to.

"What's this 'protection from his mother' that you speak of?"

Dumbledore breathed out a slow sigh and seemed to sit back in his chair, thinking for a moment.

"I will extend upon what I told Harry last week, as to why I think Harry survived the night that Voldemort came after him. As you have guessed, a prophecy was made that involved the downfall of Voldemort. It spoke of a child to be born who would have the power to vanquish him. A portion of the prophecy was overheard by one of Voldemort's agents who took what he heard to his Lord quite willingly. Voldemort analyzed the few lines of the prophecy that he had and eventually came to the determination that the child the prophecy spoke of, was the child of James and Lily Potter.

"However, the person who overheard the prophecy personally _knew_ Lily Potter and was horrified to realize that his actions of revealing the prophecy to Voldemort had basically sealed her own death. He went to his Lord and begged for Lily's life. Voldemort decided that, as payment for the servant having brought him the prophecy in the first place, he would grant his man this one boon. He swore to spare Lily Potter.

"However, I do not think that he fully comprehended the consequences of this action. By making it a boon for services rendered in this way, _Magic itself_ deemed this agreement a _magically binding _agreement. As I'm sure you're quite aware, magically binding agreements are tremendously powerful things indeed and are not to be disregarded without severe consequence.

"When Voldemort went to the Potter's home Halloween night in 1981, he was faced with an unarmed Lily Potter, begging for her son's life. Harry... Professor Lupin told me once that you said you recall that night to some extent, when in the presence of Dementors. That you remember her begging that he take her, and not you. Is that correct?"

Harry paled, and he nodded mutely, not trusting in his voice to respond aloud.

"That is much as I had suspected. You see, Lily Potter willingly gave up her own life, in exchange for the life of her son. By doing this, she transferred the magical agreement from the promise to spare _her_ life, to spare her son's life instead. _This_ is why Voldemort's killing curse was partially rebounded off of Harry, and shot back onto Voldemort himself. Magic itself was affronted by his betrayal of his word. _Magic_ itself, saved Harry, and Magic itself, punished Voldemort."

Dumbledore went quiet and sat back in his chair patiently.

Lucas was slightly wide-eyed for a moment before he got a thoughtful expression on his face. Slowly he nodded his head. "It is a very sound explanation. The first one I've ever heard that actually makes some sense. I am curious as to how you know so much about this promise Voldemort made to the Death Eater who overheard the Prophecy, though."

"Ah. It just so happens that he came to me to warn me that Voldemort was after the Potters. Even though Voldemort had given his word to spare Lily Potter, the man did not trust that he would actually do it. He asked that I protect them. It would seem that I failed many people in that regard."

Luc sighed and slowly shook his head. "You can hardly be held responsible for everything that went wrong with the war. Many mistakes were made by many parties, the gravest of which was most likely committed by James and Lily themselves when they chose to put their trust in the wrong man. I will say, however, that a tremendous and heinous miscarriage of justice was committed against Sirius Black. The man never should have been left to rot without so much as being questioned. As I recall, you were already in a very high position of power on the Wizengamot. I find it hard to believe that you would have not noticed that a member of your own organization, suspected now of being a spy, could get by without a trial of any sort and you wouldn't have noticed," Luc said, giving Dumbledore a _very_ pointed look.

"I swear that I was not aware. Barty Crouch was head of the department of magical law enforcement at that time and he was very strict with who got access to what, and what information got documented where. I was also, admittedly, very very busy that year, and neglected many of my Wizengamot duties while I was attending to the school, and the war effort. Besides, as much as I feel dreadful for what happened to poor Sirius, even if he had been freed, or never incarcerated at all, Harry would have still needed to go to Petunia. Harry could not have been left in Sirius' care as the Potter's will had deemed."

"Why not?" Harry asked, sharply.

"As I stated before, you had to be with a blood relative of your mothers, for it to power the protection left by your mother's sacrifice."

"Yes, but you didn't actually explain that," Lucas pointed out.

"Yes, I suppose that is true. You see, despite the fact that Magic decided to defend Harry from the killing curse, and take Voldemort's body instead, I do not believe that it completely shielded Harry from any effect, nor do I think that Voldemort was completely killed. As I told Harry at the end of his second year, I believe that when Voldemort's killing curse connected the two of them, it transferred a bit of Voldemort's power to Harry, and while it appears to be benign, I believe that there is the potential for a malicious effect. The fact that this piece of Voldemort's power has remained in Harry is the only explanation as to what is driving the continued existence of the protective magic that resulted from Lily's sacrifice to still remain within him.

"The protective magic is still there. I've personally scanned him several times... I'll admit to having performed the scans every time he has ended up in the Hospital wing over night – and it is _still_ there. It protects him _still_, but it must be in the presence of a blood relative of Lily's for at least a portion of each year, in order to remain powerful and effective."

Dumbledore finished with a heavy sigh and a gesture with his hands before resting them on his desk and waiting.

Harry felt utterly horrified. When Dumbledore had first suggested that some of Voldemort's magic had transferred into him that night, it had been an awful, gut-wrenching, thought. But at least, nothing Dumbledore had said could have been construed to believe that the power was _malicious_! This was a whole different level of horror.

"But wait," Harry said suddenly. "In second year, you said that I was a parselmouth because of the power I got from Voldemort, but that's not true!"

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked with honest curiosity.

"No! I'm a parselmouth because my family is full of them! Papy Luc – Um..." Harry paused, closed his eyes for a moment and focused on the clearest image in his mind that he could muster of a snake. _'I can speak parselmouth because my family can. Papy Luc, show him?'_ Harry continued on, although to Dumbledore it sounded as a string of unintelligible hissing.

Lucas nodded and looked Dumbledore square in the eye. _'He's right. I'm a parselmouth, both of his uncles have the skill, and several of his cousins,' _Luc said, although again, it was nothing but hisses.

Dumbledore's eyes widened with interest. "How fascinating! I had no idea –"

"Our family is full of magical linguists. Not just parselmouth, but many other magical languages as well. Harry can also speak to equine species, including Hippogriffs, Thestrals, and winged-horses."

"Can you?" Dumbledore asked Harry, smiling quite widely.

Harry shifted in his seat, feeling slightly annoyed at how much the conversation seem to have shifted. He was still busy freaking out about this whole 'malicious Voldemort magic' in him thing.

"Well, that is quite interesting, and it does give me something to think about. However even without the parseltongue to connect you to Voldemort, my magical scans have been fairly conclusive. I am quite positive that there was something left behind that night, and the magic that protected you after your mother's sacrifice has remained behind as well," Dumbledore said and Harry felt his stomach sink.

Lucas was frowning deeply, and his eyes were narrowed with suspicion.

"What can we do about it?" Harry asked.

"Hmm?"

"The... the _magic_ that's in me that came from him. You said it could be malicious. How do we get rid of it?"

"I... am not sure that there is anything that we can do to remove it."

"We will find a way," Lucas said in a firm voice. "I want to know everything you have on this 'malicious magic' from Voldemort. I will have my own family healers and specialists examine him. He's had medical exams before now and nothing particularly unusual has turned up before. I want to know what spells you've been using to analyze it."

Dumbledore sighed heavily but nodded his head in concession. "We will discuss it in more detail later. For now, shall we move on to the matter for which this meeting was called?"

At Harry's blank look, Dumbledore elaborated.

"The prophecy," he said simply with a small smile as he gestured to the stone basin on his desk.

"You intend to show us a memory of it?" Lucas said, sounding both impressed and suspicious.

"I thought you might have greater faith in it's accuracy if you were able to see it for yourself, rather than simply hear me tell it to you," Dumbledore said with a slight bow of his head.

"Wait, I'm lost. What is that thing?" Harry asked, motioning towards the bowl.

"It's a pensieve. It's a magically enchanted device that allows a person, or _persons_, to view memories. I have placed my memory of the prophecy into the pensieve already. All we have to do is _jump in_ to view it."

"Jump in?" Harry echoed dubiously.

Some twenty minutes later, Harry sucked in a shocked breath as the sudden feeling of falling left him and he found himself standing up straight again, besides Dumbledore's desk, and next to his grandfather. They had just just left the memory placed in the pensieve by Dumbledore and Harry was entirely list as to how to feel.

More than anything else, he was fairly sure he was disappointed and definitely _annoyed_. Anger was in there somewhere too. The idea that _Trelawney_ of all people had been the one to make the prophecy that had sealed his fate was damn near infuriating.

The prophecy itself seemed sort of... well _vague_, obviously. Very open for interpretation and _mis_interpretation. Then of course, there was the whole thing about _Harry_, specifically, having to be the one that killed Voldemort, or else, Voldemort would kill _him_. Harry had a very _very_ hard time accepting that he was the only person with the 'power' to vanquish Voldemort. Harry definitely didn't have any awesome special power that no one else did. Even his Veela abilities weren't really unique or all that powerful. Certainly nothing that could go toe-to-toe with the most powerful Dark Lord to come around for the last half century. Surely if _anyone_ was powerful enough to vanquish Voldemort, it was Dumbledore. _Not_ Harry.

Harry noticed a shift to his side out of his peripheral and glanced up at his Grandfather. He was startled to see the man was practically snarling with anger at Dumbledore.

"I will not let you arrange for my grandson's death at the hand of that lunatic!" he hissed.

Dumbledore's face paled slightly.

"I'm sorry? How do you – "

"A wizard's _magic_ or their _power_ cannot get left behind in a person! It simply does not work that way, and you know it! Your suggestion that a _piece_ of Voldemort has been left inside Harry – your belief that it was this _piece_ that had given him his parseltongue ability, however faulty that belief was – and the fact that Magic has remained within Harry form Lily's sacrifice to protect him from this _piece...? _The Prophecy's line about Harry being 'marked' and becoming Voldemort's 'equal'? I know what this nonsense is, and I won't stand for it! You intend to allow that monster to come back and send another killing curse at my grandson in hopes that he destroys himself, but I tell you now – it's not happening! We will actually take an active effort and find a way to rid him of this taint and you will be lucky if you ever see him again, you monstrous fiend! I will not sacrifice my grandson simply because you are too much of a coward to take care of Voldemort yourself!"

Dumbledore was sitting there, face slackened and mouth slightly agape, in the face of Lucas' fury. Harry felt almost as dumbfounded by the whole thing. His grandfather had obviously understood more about all of this than Harry had.

"Marquis Conciel, I assure you, you are mistaken. I would never –"

"I don't want to hear your pitiful excuses!" Lucas said in a deadly quiet hiss. "I realize that soul magic is taboo among you wizards, but did you even _try_ to find a way to remove it? Did you even _try?"_

Dumbledore's eyes closed and his face crumpled slightly as if he were greatly grieved. "I have spent years researching... I was unsure for many years as to what it might be. It was during Harry's second year here that I truly began to suspect... however, you must realize something, Marquis – Harry is not the only one. Voldemort made others," he said this last line with great desperation. He was practically pleading. Harry felt more lost than others.

Lucas scoffed. "Of course he did. He was a monster and he had more enemies than one could possibly imagine. If ever there was a wizard who would mutilate themselves in such a way, he was it. But I hardly see what that has to do with removing it from Harry!"

"I believe that he will be able to find the others," Dumbledore confessed in a quiet whisper. "He will be able to do what no one else can."

"How many are you suggesting the monster made? He could not have made too many or else he could not possibly have continued to function!"

"I do not know," Dumbledore said, shaking his head gravely. "But Harry was made inadvertently, I'm sure of that much, or else he would not have attempted to kill Harry in his first year."

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!" Harry bellowed, finally fed up with being talked about as if he weren't in the room.

Both elder wizards paused and looked at Harry as if they had only just remembered he was still there.

"Oh Harry," Lucas whispered sadly, shaking his head and looking miserable.

"What is it? What's in me?" Harry asked desperately, feeling more afraid and sick than ever.

"Now, Harry, this is –" Dumbledore began in a calming, placating sort of tone, but Lucas cut him off.

"His soul," he said flatly. "He broke off a piece of his soul, and it ended up lodged in you, most likely by accident. It is an established, but utterly horrible, method for achieving a sort of immortality. It's very dark, and it causes a tremendous amount of damage to a person. Generally, it renders the person insane within years of performing the ritual. Most know better than to do it because it's irrational to mutilate one's soul in such a way. Breaking it into pieces and storing the bits in physical vessels for safe-keeping – it renders the remainder of the soul that was left in the body, as something less than human."

Harry nodded his head in slow, numb, horror. It explained so many unanswered questions, but it was also too horrible to even process.

"There's a piece of his _soul_ in me?" Harry whispered.

"The magical protection from your mother's sacrifice has kept it isolated," Dumbledore said reassuringly. "I do not believe that it has had an opportunity to affect you. You had so many opportunities to have exhibited signs of contamination and you quite clearly have not, Harry. I –"

"Were you _ever_ going to tell me?" Harry snapped angrily.

"Harry –"

"No. Just... No." Harry said, standing up, fists clenched into tight balls and fighting desperately against the instinct to start tossing fireballs around and burn Dumbledore's office to ash.

"I was convinced that you could survive in the end," Dumbledore said desperately and quickly, trying to squeeze it in before either of them could interrupt him again.

Harry clenched his teeth and breathed in harsh breaths through his nose as he tried to reign in his temper. "Go on," he ground out through his teeth.

"It is my belief that..." he hesitated and glanced over at Lucas who was glaring at him quite sharply, "that, should Voldemort ever attempt to attack you with the killing curse again, that it would not kill you, but the piece of his soul that he left in you. The protective magic has kept it isolated for this purpose, I believe. Once the piece of his soul, within you, was destroyed, he would be vulnerable. The problem arose when it became obvious in your second year that he had made _other_ horcruxes, and that I do not know how many there are, or what they might be."

"Horcruxes?"

"That's what wizards call the soul vessels," Lucas supplied and Harry nodded.

"How did it become obvious that he'd made more than one?" Harry asked.

"The diary... it was a horcrux," Dumbledore said, relaxing minutely now that it appeared they were finally going to listen to him. "However it also appeared to be a _throw-away_ horcrux. It was one that he planned to allow to fall into the potential path of harm's way by returning it to the school in order to complete the task of opening the Chamber of Secrets. I thought it obvious that if he were willing to risk the safety of one horcrux, that suggested he had another, or _others, _to serve as backup; as the actual safe-guards of his immortality. It is also my belief that, _as a living horcrux_, you would be uniquely able to locate the others."

"That's why you didn't even _bother_ to find a way to remove it," Lucas growled out angrily. "You thought that you needed to keep it in him so that he could track them down for you."

"He is the only way. There is no telling exactly how many Voldemort made, what vessels he used, or where he has hidden them. Until all of the horcruxes are destroyed, he can not be made mortal. He can not _die._ Even if I kill him, as you suggested I was too cowardly to do, he would eventually return. Again and again, he would return, until finally made mortal."

They fell into silence for several, heavy, uncomfortable moments after that. Harry pulled in a slow breath, trying to calm his racing mind and heart down and think. Finally, he swallowed and looked back up from his lap.

"What makes you think that I'd be able to find these horcrux things?"

"I must admit that it is mostly a hunch. I cannot know for sure. But as one, yourself, you will have a unique connection to the rest, and of course, a unique connection to Voldemort himself."

"I don't _want_ a connection to Voldemort," Harry growled bitterly.

"Of course you don't," Dumbledore said sadly with a heavy sigh. "But this is the only way I can see that has the best chance of succeeding."

"And how many _alternatives_ have you bothered to search for since you came up with this brilliant plan of yours?" Lucas growled.

"I swear to you, I have searched and searched for alternate routes to take and I have found none. There is no other way to locate the horcruxes, unless Harry's help, _as a living horcrux_, is enlisted."

"No way that _you_ know of," Lucas retorted, bitingly. "How familiar with your wizards Dark magic are you, _really_? Have you at least, even consulted with any Dark wizards to see if they might have insights into it that you are likely unfamiliar with? We Veela have our own soul magicks, and while flippant practice of them are strongly frowned against, they are hardly undeveloped or lacking in power. I will search my resources to find a way to locate these theoretical 'other horcruxes', and I will find a way to rid my grandson of this taint without having to resort to allowing lunatics to throw _killing curses_ at him."

"You are most welcome to try," Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh. "I wish you all the luck in the world. If such an alternative were to be located, I would be right there with you at the frontline, casting the spells. I most certainly do not _want_ to risk Harry's life in this way. It is not my desire, _in any way_, that he should perish for this cause. But Voldemort _must_ be defeated."

The meeting did not end there, but Harry slowly began to check out after that point. His grandfather demanded to know everything that Dumbledore knew about scanning for the horcrux in Harry and the protection magic – it turned out that Dumbledore himself had cast several spells to mask the signatures unless the person doing the scans knew precisely what to look for and how to get around the masks. This, especially, did not please Harry's grandfather, since it had prevented any of his family healers from finding out about Harry's problem.

They discussed a number of complicated higher magic things, and got into a few more heated arguments, but Harry mostly just sat there, feeling like he was in some sort of numb state of shock. He felt detached from the information somehow – he figured that was probably his mind's way of protecting him from totally panicking.

He let his mind mull over what he'd come to understand this day, making every effort to make it all make some sort of sense.

From what he could tell, he had a piece of Voldemort's soul inside him, but the protective magic that had kept him from dying as a baby was still in him, keeping the bit of soul isolated, so it couldn't hurt him, but because that piece of the soul was in him, Voldemort couldn't die. He was immortal.

However, Dumbledore believed that there were _other_ things out there holding bits of Voldemort's soul, so until they were _all_ destroyed, Voldemort would just keep coming back, again and again, no matter who killed him.

Finally, Dumbledore believed, _for some reason_, that Harry, as one of these soul-vessels, would have some special power or ability to _find_ the other horcrux things. One of the arguments between his grandfather and Dumbledore over the last half hour, however, seemed to indicate that Harry wouldn't gain use of this mysterious ability to locate them until after the protective magic that kept the soul piece isolated inside him, went away – which Dumbledore apparently expected to happen when he turned seventeen. Not cool.

When the meeting was finally concluded, Harry felt exhausted beyond description. He went down the moving spiral staircase and walked along the halls with his grandfather, not saying a thing. He was just too drained to know what to say.

"I _will_ find a way to fix this," Harry's grandfather said suddenly and the pair of them came to a stop in a deserted hall. "Harry... Do you wish to remain here in Britain, still?"

"What?" Harry asked, feeling bewildered by the question.

"I can have you transferred to Beauxbatons before the next week of classes even begin – just say the word."

Harry's mouth floundered for a moment as his sluggish mind attempted to catch up with what his Grandfather was suggesting. Finally he closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and opened them again. "No. I'll stay," he said.

"You're sure?" Luc asked, looking pained and worried. "I don't trust him, Harry. He clearly does not have your best interests at heart. I rather doubt he ever would have told us any of this if I had not been able to make the connections myself. He was satisfied to just continue moving forward with this ludicrously suicidal plan of his. I don't care what he says about being _sure_ that you would have survived a second killing curse from that monster. I won't stand for even taking such a risk!"

"I know. Thank you," Harry said, smiling softly at his Grandfather, and feeling – _knowing_ – unequivocally, that he was loved by this man, and that he would stand by him and protect him with everything he had.

Harry took another calming breath to center himself and looked back into his Grandfather's eyes. "I don't trust Dumbledore with this either, and I definitely don't like his plan all that much. If you can find some other way to find these horcrux things, then please do. But... well, if it comes down to me being the only way to find them, then I'll try to do it. I don't believe that I'm the only one that can kill Voldemort – there's no way I'd last five minutes in a duel with a Dark Lord. That's just stupid. But if I'm the only one that can make him mortal, then I'll do it. I do... well, I do agree with Dumbledore on that much, at least. He needs to die, and for good. I won't abandoned Britain."

Luc heaved a heavy, heavy sigh. "Well, he succeeded in that at least," he mused somewhat bitterly. "You have your vested interest here. You're _emotional ties_."

Harry grumbled and looked away. "Look, I certainly don't like the idea that I've been manipulated into this whole thing, but it still doesn't change the results."

"I know," Harry's grandfather said quietly. "Just know that I am always here for you. The whole family is. We will do everything in our power to make this right. You are not going to die young, damn it. Do you hear me?"

Harry blinked up at Luc once before smiling broadly and nodding his head. "I hear you."

"Good."

– –


	7. When Tournaments Attack

AN: There are a lot of italicized text in this chapter. I tried to go through and fix all the messed up spaces, but I'm not sure I got them all. Sorry.

Also, again, this chapter features French dialog, via google translate. It's probably wrong, or just awkward. Any native French Speakers are welcome to send me the exact corrections to make, and I'll replace the text.

Chapter 7 – When Tournaments Attack

Harry skipped dinner that night. His grandfather had portkeyed back to France already, and he had spent part of the early evening wandering the grounds aimlessly, and then sitting up in his dorm room at his window, lightly petting the feathers behind Hedwig's neck. He was just staring out into the midnight blue sky, mulling things over in his mind, and debating whether or not he should tell anyone what he'd learned that day.

He honestly wasn't sure he wanted anyone to know at all. It was just so huge.

A piece of Voldemort's soul was inside his head.

He was destined to be the only person who could make Voldemort mortal.

Kill or be killed. If the prophecy was to be believed, Harry himself was supposed to kill Voldemort. He didn't know how he felt about that. He... he didn't want to be a killer. But this was _Voldemort_. The man that had single-handedly destroyed Harry's life. The man who had killed his parents and taken everything from him.

Of course, _Dumbledore_ had been the one who had single-handedly deprived Harry of a chance at a happy childhood, and Harry wasn't about to forget that fact either.

Despite all of his misgivings about telling anyone, he didn't think he could stand to keep something this huge a secret, all to himself. He needed someone that he could confide in, or he'd go mad.

Dumbledore had asked him to keep it a secret. He'd said it was imperative that it not get out to anyone, that they knew that Voldemort had horcruxes or that they were going to search for them and destroy them. And above all else, it had to remain a secret that Harry _was__one_.

Harry rather agreed with that last bit, honestly. He could still remember the sharp hurt that he'd experienced when he'd been shunned by the majority of the school's population in his second year when everyone was convinced he was the heir of Slytherin. If people knew that he had a bit of Voldemort's _soul_ in him... He shuddered at the thought. He really didn't want to try and imagine it.

So... secret then. But maybe he could tell Ron and Hermione a little bit of it. That there really was a prophecy that had lead Voldemort to come after Harry and try to kill him.

It was amazing how small the whole Prophecy thing seemed in light of the other revelations.

He ended up going to bed early and laying there with his hangings drawn, pretending to be asleep when Ron came up to look for him later.

– –

Harry did finally speak with Ron and Hermione on Sunday, and he told them a few bits and pieces, but none of the really substantial, and far more sensitive, discoveries. It was enough to give them some reasoning behind Harry's serious downturn in mood, but not enough to get them worrying about him being taken over by shards of Dark Lord soul.

Maybe it really would be best to just put the whole mess out of his mind for a while, Harry thought while lying in bed Sunday night. After all, Voldemort was still little more than a floating spirit or something at this point – right? None of this was really relevant until the monster managed to resurrect himself. And according to Dumbledore's theory, Harry's mysterious ability to just _find_ these other horcrux things wouldn't even be accessible until the protective magic disappeared on it's own, after he turned seventeen. So, if the prophecy followed along with that, maybe Voldemort wouldn't even be coming back until after that?

He could have _years_ before he had to really worry about any of this! Years, where his grandfather could work with the rest of the family to research and find some other way to get him out of his mess.

It was with this thought that he finally managed to get himself to sleep.

– –

The fact that school and life in general went on as normal – as if the world hadn't suddenly been turned up side down and inside out – was probably one of the few things that helped Harry cope with his new understanding of his theoretical 'fate', and the reality of what he was carrying around in his head with him.

Classes resumed, and with them, homework, studying, and general school life. Harry, of course, also continued on with writing letters to his family members, and while it was eventually made obvious which members of Harry's family had been made in-the-know about what had been revealed by Dumbledore, the topic was not exactly broached in letters. It was just to sensitive a subject matter to risk through owl post.

Sirius knew of course, and was equally furious with Dumbledore as anyone else. Harry and Sirius had spoken only a few days after Harry's grandfather's visit, via Sirius' mirror, and Sirius had grimly wondered if Dumbledore had intentionally allowed him to rot in Azkaban, just to guarantee there weren't any attempts at taking Harry away from his awful aunt Petunia.

Legally, as decreed by the Potter's will, Sirius should have gotten custody of Harry. But he wasn't a blood relative of Lily's and Dumbledore's statement that Harry could _not_ have gone to Sirius, no matter what, left both he and Harry feeling bitter, angry, and rather suspicious. Sirius had come to the determination that Dumbledore was probably very very good at lying directly to a person's face, if not called out on his deceptions.

Speaking of being suspicious and paranoid – While most of Harry's classes were basically the same as they'd been the year prior, with one notable exception. Defense Against the Dark Arts. This year, like all years before, Harry once again had a new professor for the subject. This time it was a grizzled and scarred ex-auror named Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody. Harry was still torn between the opinion that the man was brilliant, or absolutely insane.

He was a very different teacher than Lupin had been, but he was still pretty good at it – if a bit extreme. At least he wasn't a fraud like Lockheart, or a stuttering mess, with Voldemort growing out of the back of his head.

Harry's Ancient Runes class was basically smooth sailing. Over the summer, Harry's Aunt Lucienne had come to visit the Chateaux several times, and worked with Harry on the family spells used to learn dead languages, without the advantage of the emersion he'd gotten when learning French. Ancient Runes, as a class, was about memorizing the runic alphabets used in a slew of 'dead' languages from around Britain and Europe. Each of the alphabets had phonetical sounds associated with them, but they also had meanings and symbology around the runes as well, and it was mostly that, that they memorized in the class.

Learning how to speak and read the languages associated with the various rune alphabets was an incredible boon to anyone who seriously wanted to work with runes – but there was just so many of them, that it was hardly expected of anyone in school to accomplish it. If anything, they were expected to pick one of the major ones and focus their efforts on just that one, and see how far they could go by seventh year.

Harry had focused on learning two of them that summer, and considered himself surprisingly successful. At this point, he'd become nearly fluent in proto-Norse, and proto-German, both of which relied on the writing system of Elder-Futhark. And while he was still a little shaky on his pronunciation, he could at least read and write in both languages smoothly enough that he could actually _read_ some of the text in the family library written in them. It was thrilling. It was like a whole knew world of ancient and nearly forgotten knowledge had been opened up to him. The number of people in the world who could actually read these books was so small, they could probably all be in a large room together and not be all that crowded.

But then he had wondered, if it had been so easy for him to learn these two languages, why weren't more people doing it that way?

As it turned out, his family's linguistic magics were apparently nearly unprecedented. There were no publicly published spells for people to quickly and easily learn languages by magic. When Harry had asked why the family didn't offer up the one that they'd let him use, he was informed that they wouldn't actually _work_ for anyone who was not of their blood line. They were designed by an ancestor, only to work for his descendants.

It was also pointed out to him that Uncle Crestian's wife, and Aunt Lucienne's husband, only spoke French, and not English or anything else – as they couldn't use the linguistic spells because they weren't blood relatives – they married into the family. Their children did carry the family blood, and as such, could use the family magics just fine; but not them.

Harry's plan for his Runes class was to attempt to learn Old Frisian next, along with Old Norse. Then move onto Old English, and finally Middle English. Working his way up to Younger Futhark and the Anglo-Saxon furorc alphabets.

In his ancient Runes class, they were still mostly focused on Elder Futhark, which had been why he'd focused on the older languages first. With his new ability to so easily read the languages used with the runes, he was flying along in the class, and enjoying it quite a bit more than he would have expected.

He'd continued to sit with Hermione, of course, but he often found himself glancing over towards the other side of the classroom where Malfoy always sat with Parkinson and Zabini. Sometimes he'd even catch Malfoy's eye, and the blond would nod his head the slightest bit in acknowledgment of their eyes having met. But nothing more.

Harry really knew he shouldn't expect anything else. After all, what else _could_ he expect? They certainly weren't going to suddenly sit by each other, when they never had before. What would people think? They weren't exactly known as mortal enemies anymore, but they were still a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, and anyone in their year remembered the animosity that had existed between the two at one point.

Besides... if they did sit beside each other... what would they even do?

"Hey, where are you going? We've got Runes," Harry asked in confusion as Hermione started to head off in the direction of the Hospital Wing instead of the Runes Corridor.

"Harry, weren't you listening to me _at_ _all_ during breakfast?" Hermione said exasperated.

Harry blinked before ducking his head and shrugging. He'd been a bit distracted, honestly. "Er..."

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Look, it was even posted on the announcement board up in Gryffindor Common Room. All fourth year girls have to attend a special class with Madam Pomfrey today, and so we've got a pass from whatever class we would normally have at this time."

Harry looked at her blankly again. "A special class with _Madam __Pomfrey?_What _for?__"_

Hermione looked even _more_ exasperated now.

"If you really _must_ know, she's going to be teaching us contraceptive spells. Alright?"

It took Harry's brain several seconds to register what 'Contraceptive Spells' actually meant, before he flushed bright read and sputtered. "Er, right. Sorry I asked."

Hermione just shook her head and resumed her path to the hospital wing.

Harry entered Ancient Runes to find the class mostly empty. He hadn't really realized before just how many girls were in it before this point. He found a seat in the middle of the third row and started to dig out his class supplies. A minute later he heard the telltale scuffing sounds of someone pulling the chair to the desk to his left out and sitting down. Harry lifted his head from where it had been buried in his bag and blinked in surprise at the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting beside him and pulling out his own work materials.

Zabini was standing to Malfoy's left, looking somewhat bewildered before he just shrugged and sat down on Malfoy's other side.

Harry paused, unsure how to proceed for a moment, but once Malfoy had his textbook, rune dictionary, parchment, and supplies out on his desk, and his rucksack set back on the floor beside his seat, Harry decided that this opportunity would come by again.

"Hey," He said, shuffling with his notes.

Malfoy looked over and the corner of his mouth turned up into a small smirk. "Hey," he echoed with a tinge of amusement.

Harry looked back at his desk, grinning for some irrational reason.

"So, is the lack of Quidditch driving you as crazy as it is me?" Malfoy asked calmly the next moment, drawing Harry's attention back to him.

"Ugh, tell me about it," Harry said in a commiserating grouse. "Everyone is all 'triwizard tournament'-this, and 'triwizard tournament'-that. I'd take Quidditch any day over some stupid tournament that only one suicidal student is going to get picked to play in."

"Exactly. I don't see why we can't still have Quidditch," Malfoy drawled. "It's not like it would really interfere with the stupid tournament. There's only supposed to be three events held for this tournament _all_ _year_, and we could easily schedule our matches around them. It's just outrageous."

Professor Babbling came in a moment later and called the class to order. Seeing as how more than half the students were absent for the day, she decided to not bother attempting to introduce anything new that day, and instead set them to review, translating passages from their books, instead.

"Hey, Draco," Zabini said quietly some time later and Harry' glanced over out of the corner of his eyes.

"Yeah?" Malfoy replied, not looking up from his own notes as he continued writing.

"What's this mean?"

Malfoy made a quiet resigned sort of huff and set his quill down. He turned and looked at Zabini expectantly. "What does _what_ mean?"

"This here," Zabini said, pointing in the textbook. Malfoy peered at it for a moment and Harry found himself watching the whole thing out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy's lower lip was pouting out as he read the passage and Harry hand to blink to break his gaze from it.

_Weird._

"Honestly, I have no idea. I haven't quite gotten that far yet," Malfoy said with a sigh. "It'll probably take me a few minutes to cross reference the runes and check my proto-norse dictionary. I hate proto-norse. Old norse is bad enough, but this stuff..." he made a sort of frustrated huffing noise.

"Which part?" Harry asked and both Slytherins looked over at him. Malfoy with a look of blank curiosity, and Zabini with an expression of pointed scorn.

"Page sixty-seven, the passage to translate right under the illustration," Malfoy replied.

Harry looked down at his own textbook and then flipped back a few pages to the one they were asking about.

"Oh yeah, I'm past this already. Which part was giving you trouble?" Harry asked, looking back up.

Zabini's brows raised slightly for a moment before he looked back down. "The part where it's talking about the different contextual uses of ingaz and um... ehwaz. And what's the deal with sowilo in the this second part?"

"Oh, it's simple. Okay, basically –" and Harry went on to work with the two Slytherins for the rest of the class. Zabini had been hesitant and rather chilly towards Harry for the first several minutes, but after a bit, his desire for help with his worse subject, combined with the fact that Malfoy was being perfectly genial to Harry, led to a thawing of his attitude.

"Wait, wait – Potter, did you just _read_ that passage, bare? You weren't looking off your notes," Zabini said with dawning realization after about twenty minutes of working in a group of three.

"Hmm? Oh yeah. I can read proto-norse pretty well. It's why I'm so much further ahead than you two are. It's loads faster if you can actually read it, rather than having to look up every other word in the dictionaries."

"How can you possibly _read __proto-norse?_" Zabini exclaimed. "No one actually _reads __proto-norse!__"_ Malfoy looked pretty stunned too, honestly.

"My aunt taught me over the summer," Harry said shrugging and looking away while picking at the edge of his parchment of notes.

"You can't learn proto-norse over a single summer," Zabini said in a flat, disbelieving tone.

"You can if you use _magic,__" _Harry said pointedly, and finally looking up to glare at Zabini.

"There's no magic that can help you just _learn_ a language," Zabini retorted.

"My family knows some that can. But it's family magic and won't work on anyone who doesn't share our bloodline. We have a whole Grimoire of family linguistic spells. I actually got to see it once this summer when we visited the... er, one of the family's main homes."

"Family? I thought you were an orphan," Zabini retorted, giving Harry a scrutinizing look.

"It turns out that my mother wasn't a muggleborn. She was raised by two muggle parents, and they did die in her sixth year, but her real father was a wizard. Her mother had an affair with him and kept it secret, even from my mum until her real father contacted her in her 4th year at Hogwarts. But she still kept it secret from people. He contacted me a couple years ago and got custody of me so I wouldn't have to live with my mum's muggle half-sister any more. I've been with he and his family for two summers now. Draco can tell you all about it, actually."

Malfoy's head shot up, wide-eyed and looked at Harry in shock. Zabini's eyes widened and he looked over at Malfoy for a moment before his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Yeah _Draco_. Tell me about it."

Malfoy hesitated and looked over at Harry curiously. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded his head. "Yeah. I... I don't like the idea of you having some magical oath hanging over your head. Magical oaths and agreements and stuff seem to be a bigger deal than I really realized before. Do I have to say anything to get rid of it?"

"Um, well what you've said already is probably enough, but you could make sure and just say something like, 'Draco Malfoy, I release you from your oath of secrecy', or something along those lines."

Harry nodded his head. "Draco Malfoy, I release you from the magical oath of secrecy that you promised me last spring. You don't have to keep it secret anymore. Okay?"

Malfoy gave him a small smile and nodded.

"Wait – what magical oath?" Zabini asked.

"When I told Malfoy about my family last spring, he made me an oath that he'd keep it a secret. But I'm not hiding it anymore. Dumbledore has apparently known all along, so whats the point in keeping it secret?"

"He's _known?__"_ Malfoy exclaimed.

Harry snorted bitterly. "Yeah. Apparently he's known since the moment my aunt signed me over to my grandfather."

"So how come he never confronted you about it?" Malfoy asked.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "It's complicated. I can't really get into it."

Malfoy nodded his head slowly, but Zabini was just looking between the two of them curiously.

"Wait, so how long have you two been buddy-buddy enough to call each other by first names and share secret oaths?"

"First names?"

"Yeah, you called him _Draco_," Zabini drawled.

Harry blinked. "Did I?"

"I don't mind," Malfoy said nonchalantly as he looked away. Harry looked over at him curiously and after a moment Malfoy looked back and his face was passive and bored, but something in his eyes seemed to appear fragile and uncertain. Harry felt a small smile curling his lips up.

"Me neither. I mean... if you wanted to call me Harry, I wouldn't mind."

Another small smile appeared on Draco's lips and he gave Harry a short nod.

Zabini's brows had raised considerably into his forehead, but he wisely remained silent.

"So your family really has a grimoire of language magic?" Draco asked after a few moments of silence had passed to the point of awkwardness.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, it's brilliant. That's how I learned French as fast as I did."

"I had wondered about that. Is this related to all that talking to animals stuff? Or is that something completely different?"

"It's part of it, actually," Harry said.

"Talking to animals?" Zabini asked.

"Harry can speak to equines as well as snakes," Draco replied easily. "You said you had a cousin that could talk to dogs or something, right? She had a pet crup she used to talk to?"

Harry chuckled and nodded. "Yup. And I've got another that can talk to marmots, and one that can talk to songbirds."

"Wait – you can talk to equines? Like horses?" Zabini asked.

"Yup," Harry answered. "But also magical creatures that are even part-horse, so I can even speak with Hippogriffs."

"Aren't they more bird than horse?"

"They're a magical hybrid – half and half. Half horse, half eagle," Harry said with a shrug. "But it's enough, apparently. I can talk to thestrals too."

"So... then your parseltongue thing is a family trait? Does this mean you really have nothing to do with Slytherin's line, after all?" Zabini asked.

Draco snorted. "Are you kidding? _Harry __Potter_, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin?" he asked incredulously. "Besides, if he'd been from the Slytherin line, he would have been sorted into Slytherin house, and _that_ never would have happened."

"Actually..." Harry started hesitantly before clamping his mouth shut.

Both boys were looking at him curiously now, though.

"_Actually..?__"_ Draco asked in a leading tone.

Harry chewed on his lower lip, realizing that he'd never actually admitted this to anyone but Dumbledore. Finally he just blew out a breath and shrugged to himself.

"Well, as it just so happens, when I was being sorted back at the start of first year, the Hat sort of... wanted me in Slytherin," he said the last bit rather quickly and cringed slightly.

Both of the other boys gaped at him in various degrees of disbelief.

"If the hat wanted you in Slytherin, then why are you a Gryffindor?" Zabini asked, skepticallly.

"I argued with it," Harry said with a sheepish grin. "I just kept begging it 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. Anywhere but Slytherin.' So it put me in Gryffindor."

Draco looked affronted. "Why the hell would you do _that?__"_

Harry looked down at his desk now and shrugged. "I was raised by muggles, you know... and I never knew about magic and Hogwarts or anything until about one month before school started. I didn't exactly get a lot of exposure to anything magical during that time either. I'd only met Hagrid, and then there were the people I met on the train."

"And you sat in a compartment with _Weasley,_" Draco said with a sneer. "I bet he spent the whole train ride going on about how evil and slimy Slytherin's were."

"You weren't exactly motivation to join up either, you know," Harry said, pointedly and glaring mildly at Draco. "Honestly... I mean, the fact that Hagrid had said that Voldemort –" Zabini gasped and flinched; Draco's face slackened a bit, but he mostly restrained his reaction, "–had been in Slytherin, and then went on about how 'there wasn't a single witch or wizard that went bad that didn't come out of Slytherin' – that _did_ stick with me. And I was pretty horrified that anyone might freak out over the idea of me being sorted there. And Ron definitely had some choice words in regards to the house as well, but the crux of me asking the hat to sort me somewhere else was because _you_ had already been sorted there, and I didn't want to be in the same house as the stuck-up boy who had been such a git both of the times I'd seen you."

"In what way was I a git to you at Madam Malkins?" Draco retorted defensively.

Harry just sighed. "I just... you reminded me of my cousin. All superior and haughty, and you made me feel like an idiot for not knowing what Quidditch was, and you insulted Hagrid and he was my first friend. He rescued me from my relatives, when they tried to make a run for it when my Hogwarts letter showed up. And on the train you insulted Ron, who was the first friend I'd ever made that was my own age."

"You never had a friend until you met _Ron __Weasley?__"_ Zabini asked incredulously.

"My cousin always scared away anyone who tried to befriend me. He was a bully and a grade-A arsehole. Told everyone I was a freak and if they got too close, I'd contaminate them with my 'freakishness'. He made my life miserable."

"And I reminded you of him?" Draco asked quietly with a closed off expression.

"Back then – yeah. I guess it's why we started off so bad. You reminded me of someone I hated, so I hated you too. And I guess that wasn't entirely fair, but you _were_a git to Ron on the train."

"Like he doesn't give back as good as he gets!" Draco scoffed defensively.

Harry shrugged. "Look, whatever there is between you and Ron, it's between you and Ron. That's what I've decided. But he's still my best mate. I have to stand by him."

"Yeah, yeah," Draco said, making a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"So how _did_ this thing between you two happen?" Zabini asked, making a gesture between Harry and Draco.

"I guess it stems back to Harry here saving me from that ruddy Hippogriff at the start of last year," Draco mused quietly.

"And then, Draco saved me from falling to my death in that Quidditch match where the Dementors swarmed me."

Draco seemed to shudder slightly at the memory.

"I heard that something happened at the end of term last year," Zabini mentioned casually. "Something to do with Professor Lupin turning out to be a werewolf, and Draco leaving school early."

"Potter saved me from a giant dog that attacked me, and then after Lupin transformed, Harry distracted the werewolf long enough for me to get away, even though I was wounded."

"You distracted a _werewolf?_" Zabini asked, incredulously, gaping at Harry. "Are you _suicidal?__"_

"_Gentlemen_? Are you intending to spend the remainder of class gossiping, or are you actually going to use this time to get some _work_ _done?_" Professor Babbling said in a pointed voice as she came over from behind and glared down at them all.

"My apologies, Professor," Draco said, giving her an innocent smile, that Zabini echoed a moment later. Harry ducked his head slightly and looked guilty.

After that the group managed to get back to their work, and Harry continued to help the two Slytherins out where they needed it. Draco was actually pretty good at the subject, but he didn't have Harry's near-fluency, so he it still took him longer than Harry to complete the work. Zabini openly confessed that this was his worst subject, and he had been sorely tempted to drop it, but his mother would never have permitted such a thing. Professor Babbling kept a closer eye on them, but since they were now talking about class work, she let them be.

– –

"Today I got a special treat for ye," Hagrid said in a jolly voice as the class finished gathering out on the school grounds. It was the third week in October and it was starting to get pretty darn cold, so everyone was bundled up in their scarfs and heavy cloaks. Not many looked particularly interested in whatever Hagrid's 'special treat' was. Harry, however, was grinning quite widely in anticipation, as he already knew.

Draco glanced over at him and noticed the look. He raised a single questioning eyebrow at Harry, but that just got him a smirk and a wink. If anything, Draco's brows raised higher at that.

"Now follow meh, ev'rone. Come on now, this way. We're headin' over to the southern paddocks," Hagrid called out and several of the students groaned and rubbed their hands together, blowing on them and trying to keep warm. The class moved as a group, most huddling together for heat, as they made their way over to the paddock nearest the forest.

"Now, I want everyone to stand back and try teh be as quiet as yeh can. Dun wanna spook the mother none," Hagrid said in a quieter voice as they reached the fence and everyone spread out along it to try and get a look at whatever insanely dangerous beast Hagrid had for them today.

Quiet but excited Ooo's and Awe's instantly broke out among the girls as they finally laid their eyes on the baby Pegasus that was presently curled up on the ground in the hay beside it's mother. The attention seemed to have caught it's notice because the tiny winged-foal wobbled its way onto his feet and cocked its head to the side, observing them all curiously. The mother seemed to bristle with protective instinct and made some snuffing noises and stamped her foot.

"Alright everyone. Quiet down and listen up. I dun wanna have to talk too loud and spook 'er. Now this here little fella is a mix between a Granian and an Aethonan – those are breeds of winged-horses, as yeh should know. It's in yer books. The Aethonan's are usually chestnut in color and are local to Britain and Ireland, a course. The Granian's are gray, like this here foal and her mum, and are usually found more around Swedan an' Norway an' that sort'a area. I had me a pair of Aethonans, actually, but the mare didn't want nothin' teh do with the stallion. I managed to trade her out for this lovely lady here. This mare is named Kertr, but we ain't named the foal yet."

More 'awes' ensued from the girls.

"Can we help name it?" someone asked, and the notion was seconded by several others.

"I was actually gonna give the 'onor ah namin' 'im to the one tha helped me birth 'im. But yeh can feel free to give 'im your suggestions."

"Who helped birth him?" Seamus asked.

"Why, Harry did!" Hagrid exclaimed with a big grin on his face. All eyes turned to Harry who ducked his head and grinned sheepishly.

"Harry?"

"Potter?"

Several surprised and incredulous exclamations floated about at this proclamation.

"Aye, Harry was a great help. I rather doubt tha' Kertr would'a let me anywhere near 'er if it weren't fer Harry here. She's a right testy one. Got a lot of pride, and she's stubborn. Harry talked her down though, and she finally let me help her."

"Why would _Potter_ be any help with birthing a Pegasus!" Nott from Slytherin sneered.

"Why b'cause he's a horse whisper, he is! Didn'ya know tha?" Hagrid said.

Again, all eyes went back to Harry, now both incredulous and curious.

"Prove it," Nott demanded.

Draco turned and glared at the boy, which apparently confused him because Nott deflated some and frowned in apparent bewilderment.

Harry just rolled his eyes and pushed his way to the fence and without even a moment's hesitation, he hopped over it and onto the other side, earning him a few gasps from some of the girls.

The mare – who really was quite enormous up close – looked up and snuffed once, watching Harry closely as he approached. The people who were the closest to the fence at this point could swear it sounded as if Harry were whispering, _very_ quietly. They strained their ears in an attempt to make out whatever it was he was saying, but no matter how hard they tried, they just couldn't hear him.

The mare bobbed her head and made a few more snuffling sounds before bowing her head down and nudging at her little foal. The little horse's attention seemed transfixed on Harry and as soon as it was apparent that the mare had given her permission, Harry crouched down beside the foal and reached out his hand to run his fingers through his short, messy mane. Harry grinned, leaned in, and seemed to be whispering some more.

The little foal gave a chipper sounding whinny and attempted to flap his feathered wings.

Harry turned over his shoulder, looking back at Hagrid. "I'm going to renew the warming charm around this part of the paddock. It's starting to wear off and he's getting cold."

"A'right, Harry. Tha's probably a good idea anyway. It's getting mighty chilly."

Harry nodded and pulled out his wand slowly, whispering to the mare the whole time. She snuffed loudly a few times before bobbing her head, at which point Harry made a sweeping motion with his wand and set an area renewed heating charm in place.

"That doesn't prove anything," Theodore Nott muttered darkly and Draco shot him another scathing glare.

"Kertr says she'll let the students pet her nose and neck from the fence," Harry said as he finished with his charm and turned back to face the class. "But she doesn't want anyone touching the foal. She doesn't want too much human stink on him," Harry added with an amused chuckle.

He turned back and seemed to whisper to the horse again and she trotted over to the fence and stood along the side of it, holding her head up high and mighty, like the proud beast she was. Harry grinned at her and crouched back down to feed a carrot to the foal.

The students all crowded around the huge winged horse, cooing and murmuring their appreciation for her as they reached over the top of the fence and ran their fingers through her mane and along her back and nose.

Once it was obvious that Kertr was done with show and tell, she huffed noisily and trotted back over to stand beside her still-wobbly foal. Harry jumped back over the fence and stood beside Hagrid.

"A'right, now we're gonna talk about the birth'n process!" Hagrid beamed, Harry chuckled, and several of the students looked skeptical or just plain green at the prospect.

–

"You really got to help the horse give _birth?__"_ Draco said quietly from somewhere behind Harry, causing him to turn and look slightly over his shoulder and smirk.

"I did," he replied. Most of the class were in groups, in various stations around the stable working on an assignment, while Harry was standing closer to the front gate while Hagrid did rounds and answered questions.

"You're life is far too exciting. Don't you get tired of it?" Draco said airily.

Harry laughed and shrugged. "Sometimes. Most of the time, I'm just bored or doing homework just like everyone else. My life isn't all that unusual... _most __of __the __time.__"_

"Yeah, it's the _rest __of __the __time_ that stands out though. Fighting werewolves, being attacked by dementors, and, oh yeah – assisting a rare, magical, winged horse _give __birth,__" _Draco drawled sarcastically.

"I've been helping Hagrid out with stuff since last year. This actually isn't the first time I've helped birth something. I was pretty freaked out the first time Hagrid asked for help, but it's actually really brilliant, once you get over the ick-factor."

"Really?" Draco asked both excited and shocked. "What else did you help birth?"

"A thestral. Now _that_ was weird... and difficult."

"A _Thestral?_ Aren't they cursed? They're bad omens," Draco said, shaking his head and looking very wide-eyed.

Harry scoffed. "That's just superstitious nonsense. They're brilliant creatures."

"Can you see them?"

"That's what was the difficult part. I _can't_ see them so... well, it's mostly by sound and by touch."

"You really can't see them? Huh... I thought –" Draco started, but cut himself off and looked apologetic, suddenly.

"Yeah, I would have thought so too," Harry said, giving him a small smile that told the blond he wasn't upset at all. "But it's not like I really _remember_ seeing my mum killed. I'm not sure if I was even looking right at her when it happened – and if you aren't looking right at the person when they die, it doesn't count, or something."

"Oh. Huh."

"Yeah," Harry said with a shrug.

"You really helped _birth_ a Thestral?" Draco said incredulously after a few moments of silence, and Harry laughed.

– –

Ron stormed into the Gryffindor Common Room looking red in the face and rather furious. He stood still for all of one second before he spotted Hermione sitting near the fireplace with a book in her lap and stomped over to her.

"Do you have any idea where Harry is!" he asked her in a rather incredulous, rhetorical tone.

Hermione heaved a small sigh and slowly closed the book in her lap and looked up at Ron. "No, but I'm assuming you're about to tell me."

"He's in the library!"

Hermione blinked at him. "Okay... _So?_"

"He's there with Slytherins!"

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Slytherins?"

"Yeah! Malfoy and that Zabini guy!"

"What? Why? What were they doing?"

"I don't know! Harry said something about Runes," Ron grumbled as he threw himself down into the chair beside Hermione. "Said that Zabini asked him for help or something, and Malfoy came along. I mean, what the hell? What do you think they're up to? You'd think Harry would know better! It's got to be a trap, or a trick or something! But when I tried to drag him out of there he just got all annoyed with me! And I was just trying to help him out and give him an excuse to get away from those slimey gits, and he got _angry! __With __me!_"

"Well, did it ever occur to you, Ron, that maybe Harry _wants_ to be there?" Hermione offered up hesitantly.

"What! Why would he! He hates Slytherins!"

Hermione just gave him a flat look and cocked a single brow at him.

"What?" Ron said, defensively.

"First off Ron, I think it's _you _who universally hates _all __Slytherins._ Granted, Harry certainly seemed to follow along with you first and second year, but I think he's starting to see them more as individual people and not just the all-encompassing label of 'Evil Slytherins', like you do. I mean – have you seriously forgotten what happened on the train to school? Or what happened with Malfoy last spring with Professor Lupin and Si–Padfoot? Malfoy seemed legitimately worried about Harry, you know. He refused to leave him in danger, and they apparently exchanged _letters_ over the summer. I don't think that Harry _hates_ Malfoy anymore. And maybe Zabini really did need Harry's help. Harry's really brilliant in Runes."

Ron blinked dumbly for several seconds before he apparently remembered and his scowl deepened.

"I still say it's just some sort of trick! That's all just stupid. What the heck is _wrong_ with Harry, huh? He should know better. I don't care what anyone says, Malfoy can't be trusted. And he's willingly hanging out with _Malfoy_ of all people! Here I thought it was just temporary insanity on the train, but now he's _studying_ with the slimy git."

Hermione heaved an exasperated sigh and re-opened her book, pointedly ignoring Ron as he continued his rant."

– –

October 30th rolled around and a sizable portion of the student body gathered outside and watched as a great flying carriage arrived, being drawn by a group of Abraxan winged-horses. Harry watched the Pegasuses in wonder as they flew through the air with powerful grace and came in for a magically gentle landing on the Hogwarts grounds. Once the carriage had come to a full stop, the door opened and out stepped a truly enormous woman, who Harry recognized as the Beauxbaton's Headmistress, Madame Maxime.

She greeted Dumbledore, and left instructions for the horses to be properly taken care of before calling back into the carriage and leading a group of shivering, under-dressed, students out and up towards the school. Harry heard some snickers from those observing, in regards to the Beauxbaton's school uniform, but Harry mostly just pitied them for their thin, lightweight silk cloaks. There was a significant difference between late October in Southern France, and late October in Northern Scotland.

"'Arry!"

Harry turned his head and blinked in shock for a second before a wide smile spread across his face. "Fleur!" he exclaimed as a tall, thin, and very shapely Beauxbaton's girl came rushing out of the group and greeted him with a friendly hug. "Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici? Ne me dis pas que tu veux sérieusement entrer  
dans ce tournoi ridicule?"

_*/__'What_ _are_ _you_ _doing_ _here?_ _Don't_ _tell_ _me_ _that_ _you're_ _seriously_ _going_ _to_ _enter_ _this_ _ridiculous __tournament?' _Harry asked in surprise.

_'But_ _of_ _course_ _I_ _am!_ _At_ _least,_ _I'm_ _putting_ _my_ _name_ _in_ _for_ _the_ _running,'_ she said with a smirk.

_'But_ _why!_ _It's_ _suicide!'_Harry exclaimed incredulously, shaking his head.

_'I __have __my __reasons,' _she replied simply and tilted her chin up into the air defiantly.

Harry just sighed and gave her a soft smile.

_'Well,_ _it's_ _great_ _to_ _see_ _you_ _again._ _I'd_ _wish_ _you_ _luck,_ _but_ _I'd_ _feel_ _a_ _lot_ _better_ _if_ _you_ _weren't_ _aiming_ _to_ _participate_ _in_ _a_ _deadly_ _tournament.'_

"H-h-h-ha –"

Harry blinked and turned to look over his shoulder where Ron and Hermione were standing. Ron's mouth was hanging open like some sort of dead fish, and his eyes were glazed over.

"Ron?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Har-ha-ha-ha..." Ron continued to stutter as he looked at Fleur with wide, dilated eyes.

Hermione slowly began to scowl as she turned and looked at Ron incredulously. Quickly the scowl shifted into full-fledged glaring and folding her arms across her chest.

Harry turned and looked back at Fleur, cocking a single eyebrow. _'Surely_ _at_ _age_ _seventeen_ _you've_ _got_ _better_ _control_ _over_ _your_ _Allure_ _than_ _this?' _He said to her in French.

She smirked. _'But_ _this_ _is_ _just_ _so_ _much_ _more_ _fun.'_

Harry rolled his eyes.

_'Besides,_ _the_ _only_ _wizard-boys_ _I'm_ _interested_ _in_ _are_ _the_ _ones_ _who_ _can_ _manage_ _some_ _level_ _of_ _resistance_ _to_ _it._ _If_ _they_ _get_ _all_ _dumb_ _and_ _drooly_ _like_ _this_ _boy,_ _then_ _they're_ _not_ _worth_ _my_ _time.'_

Harry gave her a bit of a conceding shrug at that. She did have a point.

"Um, Harry... are you going to introduce your friend?" Hermione asked, trying not to look at Ron at all at this point.

"Oh right! Sorry. Um, Fleur Delacour, these are my best friends Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley. Hermione, Ron, this is Fleur. Her little sister Gabby is best friends with my cousin Adelle and they came to visit the family a few times this last summer."

"Eet is a pleasure to meet you bose," Fleur said with a thick French accent as she inclined her head a bit to them.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too," Hermione said graciously.

"I – I – I – you... I –" Ron continued to stutter.

"_Fleur!__"_ Harry growled slightly under his breath.

"Oh fine," she said in a put-upon tone. A moment later the glazed, over-dilated look in Ron's eyes faded some and he blinked a few times.

"H-Hi," Ron said in a dopey voice as he gave her a wide, stupid-looking grin. "You're beautiful," he said finally, in a wistful tone.

Hermione turned and glared angry daggers at Ron, who appeared totally oblivious.

Fleur snorted and rolled her eyes.

Ron's face suddenly went red and his eyes went wide as galleons and he squeaked in apparent embarrassed horror when it dawned on him what he'd said.

"Er, right, anyway," Harry said quickly, trying to divert further disaster, "you look freezing, Fleur. And you're going to lose track of the rest of your school mates if you don't hurry. I don't know where they're putting you up for your stay here, so you'd best hurry up."

"Oh yes. You are right. It was 'onderful zeeing you 'arry! I will see you again later, yes?"

"Of course."

"Goodbye 'ermione. Ronald."

Ron's face went even more red and for a moment Harry legitimately thought he'd faint. Fleur ran after the rest of the blue-clad Beauxbaton students and disappeared into the castle.

"Ronald Weasley! What is _wrong_ with you!" Hermione shrieked.

"Huh?" Ron yelped in shock.

"Hermione, it's not entirely Ron's fault," Harry said quickly in a placating tone. "Fleur had her Allure on pretty high there."

"Why would she do a thing like that!"

"Er... well, she said it's so that she can figure out which of the human wizards have any natural resistance to it. Some blokes are better equipped to deal with it than others. Fleur's only a quarter Veela, like me, and she intends to remain mostly in wizarding magical society after graduation, so I think she's aiming to eventually find a mate that's um... human. Not Veela. This is just her way of narrowing down things from the start. Anyone she finds that acts like uhh..." Harry paused and glanced over at Ron and grimaced. "Well, like _Ron_ just did, gets crossed off her list. Not that she'd ever date a young guy anyway."

Ron's face crumpled and fell in despair and Harry cringed again.

"Well, I think it's an awful thing for her to do!" Hermione humphed.

Harry just shrugged, helplessly.

They remained outside a little bit longer and watched as a great ghostly ship broke through the surface of the Black Lake, rising up and eventually docking at the Hogwarts docks at the base of the cliff. Out of the ship stepped a shifty, shrewd-looking man, who turned out to be Headmaster Karkaroff, followed double-file by the Durmstrang students in heavy fur-lined cloaks.

Ron had basically been miserably depressed since Fleur had left, but his spirits perked up almost instantly as he spotted a familiar face among the students.

"Viktor Krum!" Ron gasped.

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"The Bulgarian National Quidditch Team's Seeker! He played in the Quidditch World Cup this year! He caught the snitch!"

"But didn't Ireland win by points? Not the smartest time to catch a snitch if you ask me," Harry said dubiously. "If he'd been paying attention to the score, he'd have waited until his team wasn't so far behind in points to catch the snitch."

"You weren't there, Harry! You didn't see it! He was _brilliant!__"_

– –

The feast was a rather overdone affair. Dumbledore introduced Headmaster Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, along with welcoming the delegation from each school. Most of the Beauxbaton's students had sat down at the Ravenclaw table and Harry could really only figure it was because their house colors were blue, and the Beauxbaton's uniforms sort of matched.

But the table wasn't big enough to hold all the Ravenclaws and all of the Beauxbatons students, so a few smaller groups had broken off and sat at the other tables. Fleur and a group of her friends from Beauxbatons had come over and sat at Gryffindor by Harry, leaving Ron to babble nonsensically again, even though Fleur was still keeping her Allure mostly in check. Ron wasn't the only one who was ogling her, but he was definitely the worst.

Dumbledore introduced two people from the Ministry who were organizing the tournament, and Harry bristled as he heard the name of one of them. Barty Crouch. The man who had been head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement back when Sirius was apprehended. Now he was the Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, and he was personally responsible for bringing the tournament back from the dead. Harry now had two reasons to utterly despise the man.

The other Ministry official was Ludo Bagman – Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Harry had heard about him, both from Ron, and from the Twins, to whom he apparently owed money. He used to play professional quidditch, but now he just seemed to have a bad gambling problem.

After that, Dumbledore unveiled the Goblet of Fire – an ancient and powerfully enchanted magical artifact that had been used as part of the Triwizard Tournament since it's inception.

It was announced that those who were of age, and who were interested in putting their name in for the tournament, were instructed to write their name down on a scrap of parchment and toss it into the goblet before the time of the Halloween feast, the following night. At the feast, the three champions names would be chosen by the goblet.

The students were warned not to make their bid for entry lightly. As soon as a person was chosen by the goblet, they were bound my a magically enforced agreement that could not be broken without severe consequences. _There_ _would_ _be_ _no_ _going_ _back,_ _so_ _tread_ _carefully._

There were excited whispering all around the hall as various people proclaimed their intention to enter to their table mates. The whispers were cut off as Dumbledore pressed on and told everyone that he would be placing an Age Line around the cup, to guarantee that no one under the age of seventeen could enter the tournament. This garnered disappointed groans and mutterings.

Once the meal actually began, Harry found himself dragged into a conversation, in French, with the six Beauxbatons students who had sat down at the Gryffindor table. This wasn't a bad thing, by any means, and he was enjoying the conversation, but he realized suddenly he was garnering a lot of stares and looked around with blank confusion as his housemates just gaped at him.

"What?" Harry asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"When did you learn to speak French like that?" Lavender asked.

"Oh. Uh... the summer before last, I suppose. I've lived in France the last two summers. Total immersion really helps you learn a language fast."

"You lived in _France?__"_ Parvati gasped.

Harry just nodded vaguely and went to turn back to the Beauxbaton's students when he felt a tapping on his shoulder.

"Hey, Harry," Seamus asked in a quiet voice as he leaned in close, while still keeping his eyes trained on the French witches who had carried on their conversation, even though Harry was now distracted.

"What's up?" Harry asked.

"You... how... That um.. the blond one. She's... she's – _wow._ How come you... She's a _Veela_ isn't she? How can you just _talk_with her like she's just... just _some_ _girl_. She's beautiful!"

Harry leaned back and blinked at Seamus before he burst out laughing and shook his head.

Seamus looked affronted for a moment before pouting. "Oh come on, Harry! It was a serious question! If I knew your secret, maybe I could actually talk to her and not make a total git out of myself like Ron has."

Harry shook his head, trying to stifle his snickers. "Er... sorry Seamus. It's just..."

"Oh... wait a minute. Harry... are you a _poof_?"

Harry's snickers died instantly and he blinked at Seamus in shock.

"What?"

"I just... I mean, I heard that the only way a bloke could go face to face with a Veela girl and not get all loopy was if he just didn't fancy girls at all."

Harry blinked once before he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well, you're wrong on that front. If a Veela turns on her allure up strong enough, even a gay bloke will go all 'loopy' for her. It's about the Veela's preference, not the witch or wizard's preference."

"Huh?" Seamus asked, and now Parvati and Lavender appeared to be listening as well.

"Say, for example, you had a lesbian Veela," Harry began, and Seamus' eyes went wide and slightly glazed. Ron seemed to be doing much the same as a very dumb smile spread across his face, "well the lesbian Veela can turn on her allure and every human girl in the vicinity will start going crazy for her, even if they're all straight. If you've got a straight Veela woman, and she turns on her allure, every man in the area will go crazy for her, even if they're normally gay. It's not about the human's preference – it's about the Veela's preference. The Allure calls in all potential interest. It also means that if you've got a bi-sexual Veela, his or her's Allure will draw in _everyone_, which I imagine would get kind of crazy."

"How do you know so much about Veela?" Parvati asked.

Harry grinned widely. "The same reason why Fleur's Allure isn't effecting me, and the same reason I knew her before she got here."

"And what reason is that?" Lavender asked, impatiently.

Harry laughed. "Because I am one."

"You are one, what?" Seamus asked, looking confused.

"He's a Veela," Ron said in an exasperated tone. "He's one-quarter Veela. His mum's dad is a full Veela, and Harry's got the active Veela traits, or whatever."

Lavender gasped. Parvati's jaw dropped. Seamus' eyes bugged out, and _several_ heads further down the table turned to gape, revealing that they'd been eavesdropping, even if they'd been trying to hid it.

"What? No way!" someone exclaimed.

"Harry Potter's a Veela?"

"No he's not! That's stupid!"

"But Harry," Lavender hedged, "if you're a Veela, how come we aren't all going crazy over you, the way the boys are drooling like idiots over this Fleur girl?"

"I'm only fourteen. My Allure hasn't kicked in yet," Harry said with a shrug, and Ron scowled and turned away, muttering something under his breath.

"I was fourteen when my Allure came to me," Fleur spoke up then, and Harry looked at her with mild surprise.

"Really? That had to be hard to deal with," Harry replied.

She nodded sagely. "Eet was. It happened in za middle of zee school year as well. It was quite 'orible. I could 'ardly study for my classes at all with all zee boys always stalking me. Zhere were days when I just wanted to crawl into a 'ole and 'ide until it was over, but I couldn't."

Harry was grimacing slightly now and gave her a commiserating look. "Yeah, I'll admit I'm really anxious about it. I'm hoping that it kicks in close to my summer holidays so I've got all that time to practice my control, but..." Harry sighed and shrugged. "I'm rarely that lucky."

"You're _really_ a Veela?" Seamus asked, still sounding entirely shocked and disbelieving.

Harry grinned and pulled his hand out, palm-side up, over the table and conjured a ball of blue flames.

"Wicked," Seamus whispered.

– –

The following day was Saturday, and groups of students spent portions of the day camped out in the Great Hall watching as various seventh years, and a few 'fortunate' sixth years who had already had their birthday, took turns putting their name into the Goblet of Fire.

A few seventh year Gryffindors put in their names, followed by Angelina Johnson, who was a sixth year, but her birthday was October 7th, so she was already seventeen. She smirked smugly at the Weasley twins as she strode up to the cup and dropped in her scrap of parchment.

The Weasley Twins seemed to take this as a go-ahead or a challenge of some sort. They strode up to the edge of the Age-Line Dumbledore had put in place around the cup and grinned at each other. Several people called out with taunts and dares, and laughing. The twins then pulled out two vials of a potion, interlocked their arms and downed whatever the concoction was.

When nothing appeared to have gone wrong, they stepped through the line and grinned triumphantly – for all of two seconds before they were thrown back and started growing long gray-white beards. Everyone laughed and the procession of students entering resumed.

Fawcett from Ravenclaw, Summers from Hufflepuff, and then Warrington from Slytherin followed next. After that was Cedric Diggory – a sixth year who had also just recently turned seventeen and managed to make the cut-off. He got a number of whistles and cheers as he made his way up to the cup, and he smiled back at them.

Harry found himself watching Diggory as he preened for the crowd of girls. Diggory was really quite nice-looking, honestly. He obviously had a lot of fans among the girls in the hall, and he knew it. He had a nice smile, Harry decided. And his hair was kind of cool. It looked soft. He was Hufflepuff's Seeker, so Harry knew of him, obviously. And Harry did respect his skill at the game. He was pretty good, but not as good as Draco.

Draco looked better too. Sure, Harry could definitely see what the girls saw in Diggory – he truly was quite nice looking. But Draco...

Harry froze in this line of thought, feeling his face go hot with confusion and embarrassment.

A distraction from his slightly bewildering train of thought was provided as the Durmstrang students came in and began to put their names in, one at a time. There were a few cheers when Krum put his name in, and he smirked smugly at the room at large before leaving with the other Durmstrang students.

Like Cedric, Krum had quite a group of fangirls calling out and waving at him, and Harry found himself observing Krum rather critically too. He wasn't _bad_ looking, but Harry didn't quite find the appeal. He was a bit to thick around the neck, and his jaw was just too wide and squarish. He would probably be considered handsome by some people's standards though... but he was not quite Harry's thing...

The Beauxbaton's procession came next, and Fleur smirked at Harry as she dropped her name in. He rolled his eyes and clapped for her politely. He still thought it was madness to willingly enter this thing, but if it was what she wanted, then so be it.

When the number of people entering trickled down to nothing, they all left the Great Hall, going back to common rooms and such. Harry tried to work on some of his homework, but the atmosphere was too energized in the common room to get anything done. Everyone was overly excited for the dinner that evening, and the revealing of who would be the Hogwarts Champion.

Harry finally just gave up on it and cleared out, deciding to go visit Hagrid and see if he could get a glimpse at Madame Maxime's winged-horses. When Harry gets to Hagrid's hut, however, he's shocked to find that Hagrid appears to have _dressed__up_, and even attempted to tame his hair and beard – not that he really succeeded. He also had some sort of awful-smelling cologne that made Harry's eyes water.

Harry was bewildered by all of this for a while until he and Hagrid are walking across the grounds towards the paddock that was holding the Beauxbaton's horses and they see Madame Maxime in the distance and Hagrid became noticeably distracted.

Harry looked at Hagrid in bewilderment for a moment before following his gaze to Madame Maxime, then looking back at Hagrid, then back at Madame Maxime. A knowing grin slowly spread across Harry's lips and he chuckled.

Well, if ever there was going to be a match for Hagrid in size, it would be Madame Maxime. Harry just worried if maybe Hagrid was setting his sights a bit high. While they seemed to share certain genetic characteristics in common, Harry wasn't sure what else they might have as a common ground.

Hagrid suddenly became exceptionally flustered as Madame Maxime spotted them and headed directly for them.

"You are Hagrid, yes?" she asked and Hagrid stuttered a bit before confirming that hes, he was Hagrid.

"Professor Dumblydoor said that you would be zee one looking after my 'orses, yes?" she continued.

"Yeah, tha's right. Harry here wil pro'bly be help'n me out a lot too," Hagrid said nodding his head over to Harry."

"Oh? 'Arry? Are you 'Arry Potter?"

"Um, yes, madam. That's right."

"Harry here is a horse whisperer. He's right brilliant with the horses. Helped to birth one just earlier in the month," Hagrid beamed.

"A 'orse whisperer, hmm? You are from the Conceil line, yes? I know your grandfather. Your cousin is at my school now, yes?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Alexis is a second year."

She gave a firm nod in return. "So you have experiencing wiss handling winged horses? My Abraxan's are eespecially large, and zey are very picky. Zhey drink only single malt whiskey."

"Well, the Abraxan's are a bit larger than our Aethonan is, but we've got a Granian that's almost as large, and she was the one that gave birth earlier this month. I'm actually really looking forward to seeing your Pegasuses. Hagrid was just taking me over to see them now."

"Oh yes? Well zen we shall all go zee them together. I would like to see dis 'orse whispering you do."

Harry just shrugged in acceptances and he and Hagrid led her over to the paddock.

They actually ended up spending more time there than Harry had planned, and the three had to rush a bit across the grounds to get back to the school so that Madame Maxime could meet with the other Headmasters in preparation for the selection later that evening.

It was obvious that Hagrid was quite smitten with Madame Maxime though, and Harry had found at least one thing they had in common. They both really liked magical horses. The both of them had gotten talking on the subject and that was what had really taken up most of the time.

Finally the whole school gathered into the Great Hall and dinner was served. The puddings had just vanished from the tables and the anxious and excited chatter filling the hall had reached a fever pitch when the Goblet first started to spark and spit out bits of flame. Dumbledore called for silence and approached the cup just as it spit out the first flaming bit of parchment. As he caught it, the fire died out and he read it.

"The Champion for Beauxbatons is... _Fleur__Delacour!_" he shouted out, and the blue-clad students cheered and those sitting around Fleur at the Gryffindor table all hugged her and squealed. Harry smiled at her. "Congrats!" he called out over the roars of the hall and she grinned widely before standing up and primly walking up to the head table where she was then directed to go through a small door to the side.

A moment later the cup sparked and spit flames again before shooting out another bit of singed parchment.

"The Champion for Durmstrang is... _Viktor__Krum!__" _Dumbledore called out and roars of cheers broke out into the hall.

Krum stood proudly, smirking proudly and accepted several congratulatory pats on the back, shoulder, and even some fist-bumps. He followed the same path Fleur had a moment before and the cup began to spit out more sparks.

The final piece was spit out and Dumbledore caught it. He paused and looked out over the crowd, drawing forth the drama before speaking. "The Champion for Hogwarts is... _Cedric__Diggory!__"_

The roar from the Hufflepuff table was deafening, but even those from other houses were keen to cheer on their new champion, so applause and cheering filled the hall from all ends, even the Slytherin table, although it was less enthusiastic down there. After all, there was only so much enthusiasm that Slytherins could muster for a _Hufflepuff._

Dumbledore raised his hands and finally got the hall to start to calm down as Diggory disappeared through the anti-chamber doorway to the side, and started to speak when the Goblet of Fire began spitting sparks again. The hall went deadly silent and everyone watched with rapt attention as a _fourth_ bit of parchment shot out of the goblet and floated through the air and into Dumbledore's hand.

He frowned and read it; his frown only growing more and more intense. He looked up and then glanced back at the Head Table for a moment where everyone was looking equally confused before looking back over the hall and towards the Gryffindor table.

"Harry Potter," he said in a firm voice.

Harry's heart stopped. His jaw dropped and his head shook. No. _No__way._ This was _not_ happening.

"He cheated!"

"No fair!"

"'ogwarts cannot have two champions!"

"What about Cedric!"

"He's not seventeen!"

The boos and jeers echoed through the hall, but Harry's world had gone hallow and deafened.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again and Harry was shaken from his total shock by the sharp jab of Hermione's elbow in his ribs.

"Go!" she hissed.

He just gaped at her like she was mad and shook his head.

"Harry! Go!"

Harry managed to stand up on his numb, shaky legs and stagger his way around the table towards Dumbledore who wordlessly pushed him towards the head table and gestured with his head for Harry to follow the others into the anti-chamber.

Some part of Harry's mind was aware that the people were still boo'ing, but he was just too stunned to give it much thought yet. He walked numbly into the anti-chamber where the other three Champions turned and looked at him curiously.

"Do they need us for something?" Diggory asked, looking at Harry curiously.

"'arry?" Fleur asked curiously as she walked closer and slowly became aware of Harry's obvious state of dismay. "'arry, what has happened?"

"I... someone... I –" Harry's mouth floundered, but suddenly the room was filled with noise as the three headmasters, McGonagall, Snape, Crouch and Bagman rushed in through the door and Harry was suddenly set upon by Dumbledore rushing him.

"Did you put your name in the cup, Harry?" he asked sharply.

Harry shook his head. "No! No, sir! I didn't!"

"Did you have someone else put your name in for you?" Dumbledore asked and again Harry shook his head and denied it.

Karkaroff scoffed and said that Harry was probably just _lying_. Karkaroff and Madame Maxime quickly began to argue with Crouch and Bagman about it being unfair for Hogwarts to get two champions.

Moody burst in and said something about it taking a powerful confudus charm to bewitch an artifact as powerful and old as the Goblet of Fire and no fourth year could possibly have pulled off something of that level, and then _more_ arguing ensued.

Harry just stood there, dumbfounded and numb.

"'arry... are you... are you a Champion too?" Fleur asked incredulously.

Harry blinked at her and nodded his head. "I didn't... I _didn't_enter my name! I swear it!"

She gave him a very worried look. "Zo you think zhat someone has put you in zees tournament... what would they want wis zhat?"

Harry scoffed scornfully. "They probably want me dead. I'm only fourteen! I can't be in this thing! I think it's suicide for you guys to be in this thing, and you've got three years of schooling on me!"

"Technically, I've only got two," Cedric pointed, out, giving Harry a weak smile that was more of a grimace.

Harry laughed humorlessly. "This... this is absurd! I can't be in this thing!"

"Are you suggesting we use him as bait?" The outraged exclamation from McGonagall drew in Harry's attention and he looked over to find her speaking with Dumbledore and Snape.

Harry's eyes narrowed instantly with suspicion and he stormed over to them.

"What's this about?" he demanded.

"I am suggesting no such thing," Dumbledore said in a placating voice to McGonagall, giving her a pointed look in the process. She was still glaring balefully at him, however, and Harry was not convinced in the least. "I am merely saying that we have no idea who is responsible for this or what their motives might be. Until we have a clearer view on – "

"I am _not_ competing in this tournament!" Harry said point-blank and loud enough that it drew the attention of the squabbling Karkaroff, Maxime, and Ministry people.

"I'm not entirely sure that will be an option, Harry," Dumbledore said gently.

"What do you mean? I _can't_ be in this thing! I'm only fourteen! I didn't enter my own name! I get that there's a magical contract involved when a person enters their own name, but _I__didn't__enter!_ I never agreed to _anything!_ And as for keeping me in this thing so you can try and work out who's behind it – You want to know what motive a person would have for entering my name for me? Here's a real obvious one. They want me _dead!_ But they don't want to do it themselves, so they're counting on the tournament to kill me for them! I've thought this tournament thing was stupid from the start, and I want nothing to do with it!"

"Ah, but I'm afraid Harry, that the Goblet of Fire isn't exactly creating a magical contract in the sense that you are thinking. It's very complicated and –"

"I want my Grandfather here – Now!" Harry demanded.

Shock had been replaced by fury, and adrenaline was only fueling him further. Panic, however hidden, was also a very powerful force as well, and this whole thing was just _not __okay!_

"Harry, I'm not sure how possible that would be at this hour. He will be notified as quickly as possible, but owl post takes –"

"But the floo is instant. Grandfather has said that the floo in your office is hooked up internationally because of your work with the International Confederation of Wizards. I should be able to contact him from there, and he should be able to floo in immediately. Why are you trying to stall me, Headmaster? I am a minor being roped into a deadly competition against my will, and I demand the council of an adult that I actually _trust._Now are you going to let me use your floo?"

"Why, you impudent little –" Snape began to bellow, but Dumbledore held up his hand and gave his potions master a pointed look.

He looked back at Harry and sighed heavily. "I am most saddened that you don't feel you can trust me, Harry. We shall visit my office and use my Floo to contact your grandfather."

"You haven't exactly given me a lot of reason to feel I can trust you headmaster. Perhaps if you hadn't hidden monumental secrets, lied, broken laws, erased my memories, and ritually bound my magic _when __I __was __five_, I'd be a little less bitter and a bit more trusting. As it stands, I wouldn't trust you with my safety if my life depended on it – and I rather suspect that at the moment, _it_does."

McGonagall's eyes went as round as galleons and her gaze shot to Dumbledore like lightening. When all he did was heave another heavy sigh, and do nothing to deny anything Harry had said, her face pinched into a tightly controlled mask of fury that promised him they would be sharing words later.

Snape's eyes were wide as well for all of one moment before they narrowed and grew rather wary, but also quite calculating.

Everyone else in the room was utterly silent. Bagman looked especially uncomfortable. Fleur and Krum both looked mildly impressed while Diggory just looked dumbstruck. And Moody was giving Harry a _very_ interested look, indeed.

Finally, Dumbledore led Harry out of the small anti-chamber, promising the others that they would resume shortly, and telling Mr. Bagman that he could proceed with informing the other three champions of the pressing details of the tournament. McGonagall hurriedly followed after them, and the three walked up to the Headmaster's office in heavy, stormy, silence.

Harry found himself trying desperately to hold onto his fury. He suspected it was the only thing keeping the panic at bay. At least while he was angry, he was getting something done. All he had to do was hold it together long enough for his grandfather to get there. He would fix this. Surely he would fix this.

They reached the gargoyle and Dumbledore gave the password – some sort of sweet, Harry really wasn't paying attention – and they climbed the moving staircase. Once at the top, Dumbledore strode over to the Floo and seemed to do something or another – Harry assumed he was unlocking it, or adjusting some setting that would allow Harry to bring his grandfather through. Finally, Dumbledore stepped back and offered Harry a small tin of floo powder. Harry took it wordlessly and tossed a small handful into the grate, turning the yellow and red flames into a bright breen.

He knelt down and stuck his head in while yelling out "Chateaux de Faucon, Iledevol, France, Entry hall grate."

Harry closed his eyes to fight off the nauseating feeling of having his head feel like it was spinning in a cyclone for several seconds. Finally the feeling subsided and Harry opened his eyes to find himself looking out into his family home's entry hall. A little bell was ringing in the distance and Harry knew that someone should be by in a minute to check on the floo.

He wasn't let down as a minute later, the housekeeper bustled in and gave a small squeak of surprise at seeing Harry there.

_'Master Harry? What are... has something happened?'_

_'Get __my __grandfather, __right __away. __It's __an __emergency,' _ Harry spoke quickly in French.

_'Right__away,'_ she said with a firm nod before racing out of the room.

Harry remained hunched over, bent into the floo grate for about a minute longer before his grandfather raced into the room.

_'Harry? What has happened? Are you hurt? What's wrong?'_

_'Papy Luc, it's awful! You have to come through to Hogwarts. Someone put my name into the Goblet of Fire and I got selected! Dumbledore tried to make some excuse about it not being a normal contract, and he made it sound like I've got to compete in this thing, but that can't be right!'_

_'Whoa, slow down. Someone entered your name in that idiotic tournament?'_

_'Yes! And Dumbledore and McGonagall were talking and it sounded like Dumbledore wanted to let me stay in the stupid thing just so that they can find out who did it, and what their motive is. But I think it's pretty damn obvious what the motive is – they want me dead!'_

_'Okay, Harry. Just calm down, I'm coming through, alright? Step back a moment and I'll be right there.'_

_'Thanks __papy,'_ Harry said with a tinge of relief, added in with his panicked voice.

Harry quickly pulled his head out of the fireplace, feeling a bit like trying to pull his head out of a vacuum and stood up, stepping away from the grate.

"He's coming through," Harry said, and Dumbledore and McGonagall both nodded.

A moment later the green flames flared up much brighter, and a second later Harry's grandfather had stepped through and into the room looking tall, proud, and very intimidating. It was quite a feat for any wizard to look intimidating when in the presence of Albus Dumbledore. But of course, Lucas Conceil was a Veela of royal blood who was on a mission to protect his kin.

Within moments, he had demanded details of what was going on, and things as they were known were quickly explained to him. He was introduced to Professor McGonagall and he was curt, but at least vaguely polite with her. Dumbledore, however, received a rather thorough tongue lashing for his lack of security around the cup, that would allow such tampering to take place.

"I assure you, it was being guarded," Dumbledore had said at one point.

"Oh? By whom? The person should be questioned, immediately. They either neglected their task, or they could have had something to do with the tampering. I demand a full and thorough investigation, Dumbledore. I _will_ be having words with the Minister, as well as this pompous, incompetent arse, Crouch!"

When it got to the subject of Harry's participation in the tournament, things really got heated.

Dumbledore seemed rather insistent on his belief that, since Harry had been chosen by the Goblet of Fire, Harry would have little choice but to participate in the tournament or possibly face dire consequences. The Goblet's purpose wasn't to bind those who entered the tournament to participate, but rather, its purpose was to select the best of the best from a list of submitted names, under three schools. The binding was part of the magic, but it wasn't a magical contract in the sense that both parties must agree. In fact, willing participation was not a factor _at__all_ in the original tournament, but those chosen were still magically bound to participate.

Harry didn't really follow most of it – it all sounded rather ridiculously convoluted, and there was some old story about the first tournament in there to explain why it was constructed this way, but Harry really didn't give a damn. All he cared about was how the hell they were going to get around it.

Lucas was furious – stating resolutely that given the nature of the Goblet, it never should have been used again. It was ancient magic. Dangerous magic. Not something generally okay to be used in modern magical society at all. He also stated that he would be personally investigating the Goblet and would also be bringing in several investigators of Iledevol to run some diagnostic spells and conduct an investigation of their own, and if Dumbledore dared to protest this action, Lucas and the Veela Nation would rain their fiery fury down upon him until he learned just what it meant to earn the scorn of the house of Conceil.

Finally, he turned to Harry and promised him that if there was a way to get Harry out of this, he would find it.

This didn't exactly leave Harry feeling all that reassured. He wanted to believe his Grandfather could get him out of this, but he had a sinking feeling, deep in his gut, reminding him just how often things in his life had a tendency of going horribly, horribly, wrong.

It seemed like it had been ages since his name had come burning it's way out of that blasted cup when Harry finally made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. It was late, and he was more exhausted than he remembered feeling in a long time. Mentally and emotionally drained, and still filled with a lingering sense of horror at the inevitable.

When Harry stepped through the portrait hole and into Gryffindor's common room, the room fell into silence for all of two seconds before a sudden uproar of screaming and whistling and cheering flooded his senses, and he was suddenly pulled forward by the excited masses.

"You should have told us you'd entered!" Fred exclaimed looking half annoyed and half deeply impressed.

"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.

"_What? _Are you _mental?_ I didn't enter! How the hell would I?"

"That's what we'd like to know," Fred said, raising his eyebrows.

Angelina came up then, grinning madly and draped and arm around George's shoulder. "Well, if it couldn't be me, at least we've got a Gryffindor Champion! I don't know how you managed to get past Dumbledore's Age Line, Harry, but congrats!"

"I didn't!" Harry exclaimed, shaking his head almost desperately. "I didn't put my name in the goblet!"

But no one seemed to be listening. They all just gave him these _looks_, like they were playing along with a game. Some even smirked or winked at him when he continued to insist that he'd had nothing to do with his entry into the tournament.

Harry grew frustrated _very__quickly_, and made several attempts to side-step the crowd and go to the stairs to the dormitories. Someone had produced food and drink and the gathering had somehow become a legitimate celebration, which really only stoked the flames of anger and resentment in Harry's gut. Dean had produced a Gryffindor banner from somewhere and even tried to tie it around Harry's shoulders like a cloak, but Harry managed to wrench himself away from his dorm mate before growling at the lot of them that he was going to bed and storming through the crowd up to the stairs.

He couldn't help but wonder where the hell Ron and Hermione were. He hadn't seen them anywhere down in the common room, and he was wishing desperately for a chance to sit down with his friends and try to make sense of the insanity that was the last few hours. As such, he was relieved when he pushed open the door to the 4th year boys dorm and found Ron laying on his bed, still clothed, and staring up at the canopy draped over the four posts.

Harry heaved a sigh as he stormed in and closed the door rather loudly in his frustration. He stomped his way over to his bed and let himself fall heavily onto it, sitting on the side facing Ron's bed.

"Where have _you_ been?" Harry asked, feeling annoyed.

"Up here. So I s'pose congratulations are in order," Ron said, and Harry thought that the strained smile on his face looked rather odd and forced.

"Congratulations?" Harry echoed incredulously.

"Well, they're letting you compete, right? You aren't even in trouble for it. I heard from the Fat Lady, who heard it from that portrait of Violet that Dumbledore's letting you stay in the tournament. How'd you manage it anyway?"

"I didn't!" Harry roared.

"Even Fred and George couldn't manage it. Did you use the invisibility cloak or something?"

"Ron, are you even _listening _to me? I _didn't_ put my name in that goblet! And the invisibility cloak wouldn't let me past an age line! That's ridiculous!"

"Oh... yeah, I didn't think it'd be the cloak. I figured you'd have told me if that was it since it could have hidden us both."

"RON!"

"Oh, come on mate. This is _me_. You don't have to lie with _me_. I get if you're trying to avoid getting in trouble for it and all, but I wouldn't have thought you'd try that with _me_!"

"I'm not trying anything Ron! I didn't enter my name in the Goblet! Why would I? I've told you time and again, all term, how stupid I think this whole thing is!"

"Well if _you_ didn't put your name in, then who would?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"Why would someone _else_, put _your_name in the Goblet of Fire! You think someone _else_ wants you to win the thousand galleons?" he asked sarcastically.

"I don't know Ron," Harry said sarcastically, "maybe they want me _dead_? You think of that?"

Ron's eyes went wide for a moment before he scowled again. "Don't be stupid, Harry. You're not gonna die because you're in this tournament," he rolled his eyes dramatically and sneered slightly. Then he got this look on his face like he'd just figured something out, and gave Harry a cold look. "It was Malfoy, wasn't it?"

"Huh?"

"He helped you put your name in! That's why you didn't tell me. What – am I not good enough for you anymore, Harry? You'd rather hang out with your posh new Slytherin friends?"

"Ron, don't be stupid!"

"Whatever, Harry. I'm going to bed," Ron said in a low bitter voice as he reached up and yanked the hangings around his bed closed.

Harry just remained sitting there on the edge of his bed, gaping in stunned, angry, shock, at the dark velvet red hanging now hiding one of the few people he had been sure would believe him.

–


	8. When Rivals Becomes Reliable Friend

AN: I thought I'd point out a few little things to avoid some confusion. Over this last summer, in cannon, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, all went to the Quidditch World Cup. Where they were seated was up in the Ministry box and Mr. Crouch's house elf Winky, was up there to save him a seat, although he never showed up. This was Hermione's first introduction to wizards using house elves, outside of Harry's experience with Dobby in second year.

After the Death Eater attack, Winky is caught with Harry's wand and it's identified to be the one that cast the Dark Mark and Mr. Crouch instantly gives Winky clothes and she is left a sobbing broken mess. It was the incident that spawned Hermione's House Elf Freedom quest and spawned SPEW. **None of that happened here in this fic!**

Harry didn't go to the Quidditch World Cup, instead staying with his family in France, so Hermione decided not to go either, therefore Winky didn't get caught and didn't get freed, and Hermione never saw any of that stuff. We'll assume that Winky stole someone else's wand for Barty Crouch to use.

Also, for later in the chapter, a magical creature called a '**Sowl**' is referred to. They came from here:** santani. deviantart .com/gallery/#/d49zdut**

Check out that artists entire gallery for awesome things of a similar nature.

And finally, check out the link on my author profile for the Conceil Faimly Tree. It's the page of the Family Book of Names, dedicated specifically to Lucas' branch. I spent a ridiculous amount of effort on it, and it's practically illegible. oh well.

o - o - o

* * *

o - o - o

Chapter 8 – When One-Time Rivals Becomes One's Most Reliable Friend

The following morning – a Sunday – Harry woke to find Ron was already gone from their dormitory, and as soon as he made his way down the stairs and into the common room, he was once again inundated with applause and giddy congratulations and even _more_ questions about _how __he'd __done __it_.

The Creevey brothers were especially annoying and Harry finally decided that remaining in the Common Room was simply not an option, even if the prospect of going to the Great Hall was less than appealing as well. As soon as he stepped out from the portrait hole, he came face to face with Hermione, holding a napkin with several slices of toast on it. She handed them over and suggested they take a walk.

Harry gratefully accepted both the food and the idea – eternally thankful for Hermione's forethought. They made their way out onto the grounds and sat near the lake while Harry relayed to Hermione everything that had happened the night before after he left the Great Hall.

Hermione believed him, of course, and he was greatly relieved that at least one of his friends was still reliable and reasonable. When Harry blustered angrily about Ron, Hermione pointed out that he was obviously _jealous_, which somehow dumbfounded Harry. He couldn't image _how_ Ron could possibly be jealous of him, but Hermione pointed out that he had all those brothers to compete with, and he was best friends with Harry who – let's face it – was famous and always getting all of the attention, whether it was wanted or not. Not to mention, the winner of the tournament would get an awful lot of money.

Harry grumbled, and was still angry. What right did Ron have to be _jealous_ over Harry getting roped into something that was likely to either get him killed, or at the very least, with him ending up looking like a great incompetent fool in front of the whole school.

He spent the remainder of Sunday avoiding everyone like the plague. He secluded himself away in his bed and called Sirius on his mirror and vented a little about his fears for the tournament, but mostly about his anger over how Ron and the rest of the Gryffindors were reacting to this. The Gryffindors seemed to be treating him like some great hero, while Ron was just being a jealous prat who wouldn't listen to reason.

Sirius commiserated with him and expressed his deep seeded worry about what was going on and just how serious this whole mess was. He warned Harry that there were some legitimate threats within the school right at that moment, mentioning that Karkaroff - the Durmstrang Headmaster - had been a Death Eater, and also went on to tell Harry that he was personally convinced that Snape was probably one as well. Harry didn't know what to think about that bit of information, but it certainly didn't make him feel any better.

Sirius then told Harry that Lucas already had a team of Veela magical enchantment and binding specialists at the school holed up in some room with Crouch, Bagman, and Dumbledore, and apparently a specialist was being sent by the Ministry from the Department of Mysteries to examine the Goblet, and another from the Auror's office was being sent to start an investigation.

Lucas had been up the whole night calling in favors and demanding action. He was a powerful political force in the Veela Nation, and had held a seat on the Central Administration of French Wizard's Veela relation's assembly for decades. He was close friends with the current French Magical Minister, and even if he hadn't had a lot of direct relations with the British Magical Minister, Cornelius Fudge, the man still knew who he was and the powerful position he held.

While they had officially stopped hiding Harry's connection to the Consiel family over the summer, and several documents that had been charmed secret were switched to public record and could now be seen by anyone with press-level political clearance or higher, it had still remained mostly unknown up until this point that Harry held any ties to the family. That had now officially changed. It was now known that Harry Potter was the grandson of the Marquis Lucas Merovich Conseil, and under his legal guardianship. No doubt, the news had stunned the pants off of quite a few people, and Sirius had found it rather amusing.

Harry had worried at some point over the summer what sort of reaction the release of this news would garner him, but now it sort of fell to the wayside in comparison to the mess he found himself in now.

Harry mentioned to Sirius that Hermione had promised to bring Harry some food from lunch since he was avoiding the Great Hall, and Sirius suggested the idea of going directly to the kitchens instead. Harry had blinked in surprise – it seemed obvious now that he thought about it that there had to be kitchens somewhere, but the food had always seemed to just magically materialize out of nothing, so he'd never really wondered where it came from.

Sirius explained where to look on the map to find it, and told him about the big painting of a bowl of fruit and how he had to tickle the pear in order to turn it into a door knob. Having lived in Hogwarts for more than three years, this didn't surprise Harry at all and he made a mental note to go find the place later for dinner.

–

The following day was Monday and Harry no longer had the luxury of avoiding the rest of the student body. While Gryffindor continued to treat Harry like some sort of hero, the rest of the school was clearly giving him the cold shoulder. Hufflepuff especially seemed cold to him, which was quite a contrast since he'd always gotten on quite well with the Hufflepuffs.

He supposed that his entry into the tournament did sort of steal their fire. Hufflepuff was always getting disregarded and forgotten about. Now that they had Cedric Diggory as the Hogwarts Champion, they finally had a shot at some of the limelight – but instead Harry was getting all the attention.

It was just another point of contempt for Harry to brood over.

Ron was still being a git and Harry was still angry with him. Hermione would sit between them in the Great Hall and in classes and make forced conversation and while both boys talked normally with _her_, neither were speaking with each other. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students seemed to give him a mixture of suspicious, contemptuous, or just curious looks. Fleur's friends were one of the few groups that didn't seem to be glaring at him hatefully, and Fleur still sat with him and said she believed him and knew that he'd never have entered the tournament on his own.

He was grateful for her support, but he didn't have any classes with the Beauxbatons girls, so the backup was only there during meals, and only helped so much.

Classes were miserable with cold shoulders and glares following him everywhere, and there was a general refusal to help him with classwork or partner with him when groups were needed. Even Professor Sprout was shorter with him than usual.

Harry walked into the Ancient Runes classroom on Wednesday following blindly behind Hermione and keeping his head down as he pointedly ignored the stares and whispers that followed him everywhere no matter what, it seemed. Hermione sat down and Harry let himself fall into the seat beside her with a great sigh. He sat there with his eyes closed, trying to deflate and push the stress and tension out of his shoulders through will power alone, but he knew it wouldn't work.

He heard the seat at the desk beside him shuffle and the sound of someone sitting down and Harry opened his eyes to look at who it was. He blinked in mild surprise as he realized it was Draco.

Pansy Parkinson was standing on the other side of the room with her hand on the back of the chair she usually sat in during this class, and looking over at Draco as if he'd lost his mind. She stood there for a few seconds, apparently too bewildered to move, before Zabini tapped her arm and jerked his head back towards Draco and began to walk over and took the seat directly behind Draco. Parkinson hesitated for only a moment longer before huffing and walking over to take the open seat to Draco's left.

Draco gave his friends a very small nod of approval or possibly gratitude before looking over at Harry rather seriously.

"Did you put your name in?" he asked point-blank.

"No!" Harry said instantly, shaking his head frantically.

Draco's shoulder's seemed to ease instantly, and he sighed slightly and nodded. "I didn't think you would. You're smarter than that. So who do they think did it, and are you seriously going to have to compete in this thing?"

Relief flooded through Harry so powerfully, it was almost overwhelming to the point of tears. He felt a thick lump suddenly materialize in his throat and his chest swelled with _something. _For a moment he had the most ridiculous urge to laugh with force of his relief, but he swallowed it back and pushed his way through the lump.

He shook is head and shrugged. "I don't know. No one's really talking to me. My Grandfather has sent me a few notes with updates and information, but not much has been worked out yet. They only just got a few aurors and an unspeakable investigating the Goblet to find out how it was tampered with. Whoever did it had to be really smart because they covered their tracks really well. Apparently they managed to _confund_ the thing into thinking that a fourth school was now in the tournament and the only name submitted under the extra school was _mine_." Harry grumbled.

"To _confund_ an artifact as old and powerful as the Goblet of Fire had to take a really powerful wizard, and it would probably take dark magic, too. How can anyone honestly believe that a fourth year could pull off something like that? People are such mindless idiots," Malfoy groused dramatically.

A nearly broken laugh of relief shook it's way from Harry's chest and he sighed, hanging his head and nodding it at the same time. "I just wish someone _else_ in this ruddy school would come to their senses and realize that."

"You obviously have overly-high expectations of the intelligence level and common sense of the average Hogwarts student," Draco drawled back scathingly.

Harry barely muffled his snort of amusement. Hermione was watching the two interact with obvious curiosity. Parkinson just looked some sort of mix between gobsmacked and horrified. Zabini, just looked bored and was busy digging through his bag and setting up his supplies for the class.

Padma Patil, Su Li and Terry Boot walked into the class and came to a stop, seeing that their usual seats were taken, but then gaped openly at who had taken them in order to sit beside Harry Potter. Eventually they stopped gawking quite so obviously and found new seats. The classroom filled and Harry and Draco continued to chat, with their interactions growing more casual and relaxed as the minutes ticked by and the pair dug out their respective supplies and notes.

Professor Babbling finally called the class to order. There was a lecture along with a question and answer session, followed by everyone handing in their last translation assignment before giving the rest of class to work on their next assignment and ask questions if need be. It didn't take long at all before Zabini was leaning forward and over his desk to ask Harry questions about the assignment, and Parkinson's shocked expression only grew as it became obvious that even Blaise Zabini had been interacting with Harry Potter before this moment. She sent Draco a rather pointed glare that clearly said they would be having words later, but Draco just returned a flat, bored sort of look back.

Class came to an end and as they were packing up their things and heading out the door, Draco called to Harry that he'd see him in Care of Magical Creatures the following day and Harry beamed back at him and nodded before leaving with Hermione.

Harry's grin remained in place for quite some time after that, and he couldn't rationally place why, but he just felt so much _lighter_ than he had in days. Hermione looked over at him speculatively and seemed to be _thinking_. Whatever was on her mind, however, she didn't voice it aloud.

"Hey, I'm thinking I'll skip out on dinner again tonight," Harry said as they walked down the hall. "I just don't want to deal with the Great Hall right now. I know it would kill my mood and I don't want that."

"Harry, you can't keep skipping meals like this!" Hermione argued.

"I'm not skipping meals, I'm just eating in the kitchens."

"The kitchens?" Hermione echoed, sounding surprised. "How do you know where to find them?"

"Well, it's on the Marauder's Map, but Sirius told me where to look on it and how to get in."

Hermione rolled her eyes mildly, but grinned.

"Do you want to come with me?" Harry asked, hesitantly.

Hermione gave him a soft smile and nodded. "Sure, Harry. Can we go up to the tower so I can drop off some things and pick up some others, first?"

"Sure."

–

Later that evening, Harry led Hermione down the ground-floor corridor that held the entrance to the kitchens. He brought her to the large painting of the fruit, tickled the pear, and then pulled the portrait open using the handle that appeared there. As soon as the pair had fully stepped inside, they were surrounded by excited, hopping house elves.

Hermione gasped in surprise, looking out over the enthusiastic crowd with wide eyes.

"Harry – what –?" Hermione spluttered out, but Harry was already walking forward towards one of the short bench tables along the wall and setting his bag down.

"Coming Hermione?"

"I... um... okay," she said hesitantly as she stepped around the hopping house elves, apologizing and telling them 'no thanks' as she went. She came over and set her bag down and realize she recognized the elf that was presently hopping up and down excitedly next to Harry.

"Hermione, this is Dobby. He's the elf that belonged to Lucius Malfoy that I tricked him into freeing?"

"Oh!" Hermione gasped in recognition.

"Apparently Dumbledore hired him on to work here at Hogwarts. He gets paid now and everything."

Dobby beamed widely and nodded his head, causing the sock he was wearing on one of his bat-like ears to wobble about comically.

"Mister Harry Potter Sir is a great wizard indeed! Dobby is most pleased to be free from Dobby's nasty old master. Dobby gets Mister Harry Potter Sir whatever foods he likes when Master Harry Potter Sir comes to visit Hogwarts kitchens," Dobby said excitedly.

"You won't get in trouble for getting us food, will you Dobby?" Hermione asked, worriedly.

"No noes! There are Hoggywarts students whose be coming in to visit us house elves all the time and we's always be helping in whatever ways we's can be."

"Well, if you're sure," Hermione said hesitantly.

"It's fine, Hermione," Harry said reassuringly before turning back to Dobby. "Anything is fine. Just a bit from whatever is being served in the Great Hall. Don't go to any trouble."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby exclaimed before bounding away.

"You know Harry... I didn't even realize they were down here," Hermione whispered as she looked around the room with wide eyes. "It doesn't mention them at all in Hogwarts a History about them!"

"Well, I suppose it sort of ruins the whole illusion of the magic if you realize that there's an army of house elves doing all the cooking, laundry and cleaning around the common rooms," Harry offered up with a shrug.

"Do they all get paid, like Dobby does?"

"I don't know," Harry said with a shrug.

Hermione frowned and looked around the room some more, watching as the house elves bustled around, preparing a mountain of food for the Great Hall one floor above them.

– –

The rest of Harry's week passed with it's ups and it's downs. The ups, it turned out, were Care of Magical Creatures, Runes, and shockingly enough, _Potions_. Which was downright unbelievable, really. Hermione had taken up the habit of partnering with Neville a while back in an attempt to reduce the number of cauldrons the poor boy had to buy each year. Harry had almost _always _partnered with Ron in the class, but it was obvious that wasn't going to be happening now. Hermione had hesitated in her motions to go sit with Neville, but then Malfoy had called Harry over to his table, causing no small amount of stunned shock to register on the faces of just about everyone in the class.

Ron had pointedly ignored Harry and partnered with Kella from Gryffindor instead. Of course, once Harry went over and sat with Draco, Ron had only looked that much _more_ furious, but at this point, Ron could go kiss a toad for all he cared. Ron was an arse.

Draco had been an incredible help in that potions lesson, and from that point forward, it seemed expected that they would sit together for the class. Not only did Draco make sure that Harry didn't do anything stupid to earn him Snape's wrath, but he actually _explained _things in a way that made some sense for once. He even showed Harry some neat tricks for prepping the ingredients properly that Harry couldn't help but wonder, rather bitterly, why Snape had never bothered to do that in class since he was actually _the teacher._

The Hufflepuffs were still glaring daggers at Harry where ever he went. The Ravenclaws mostly just gave him vaguely scathing looks, assumingly because he'd _gotten __away_ with _cheating_ or something, and the Gryffindors still insisted on acting like he was awesome for something that only infuriated him.

The most shocking thing, however, was the way the Slytherins were treating him. Sure, there were some that had sneered and scowled at him; some that had laughed and openly mocked him; but after Draco had started sitting with, and openly talking to him, it had died down somewhat. Now, mostly, he just got speculative and curious glances from them, while they sent confused and questioning looks Draco's way.

Harry's potions class on Friday, however, was interrupted by Colin Creevey showing up and saying that the Headmaster had sent for Harry and that he had to come _now_. Snape had sneered, but finally told Harry to pack up his things and get out of his sight.

Harry rushed, wondering if perhaps they'd managed to find a way to get him out of this whole mess. Creevy gushed annoyingly as they went and Harry eventually snapped at to just shut it. That was when they finally arrived at the same anti-chamber to the Great Hall from the feast, and Creevy finally left Harry to enter on his own. Harry stepped inside and let a smile of relief spread across his face as he saw his Grandfather in the room, standing along one of the outer walls.

"Papy Luc!" Harry exclaimed as he rushed over to the man's side. "What's going on?" Harry asked as he looked around and realized that Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delecour, and Krum were also in the room. A moment later, an entourage of people entered from the Great Hall all at once. Dumbledore and the other Headmasters were there, of course. Among the others, one of them was Ludo Bagman whom Harry recognized and was not surprised by at all. One of the others that Harry recognized was Ollivander, the wand maker, which Harry _was_ rather surprised and confused by. The remaining two people were a total mystery. One was a woman with blond hair done up in elaborate curls, and she wore jeweled spectacles, and the other was a man who appeared to be holding a rather complicated magical camera that was smoking slightly.

"It's the wand weighing and apparently, a press event," Lucas whispered into Harry's ear. "It's mandatory for all champions to have their wands checked before the tournament begins."

Harry turned and looked back at his grandfather worriedly. "Is there really no way to get me out of this whole thing?" he asked, almost desperately.

Lucas sighed heavily, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow in barely contained despair and anger. "It does not look like it," he said finally. "That Goblet is a travesty. It cares nothing for willing participation. It chooses from the names it's given, and then binds those people. Honestly, Harry, it has a very dark history and I find it outrageous that the thing was used at all. They picked it because of some vague sense of tradition and because it seemed dramatic and interesting. They did not even bother to research it's history or just how powerful and dangerous it's magic can be when tampered with. I can kick up a storm and we can throw around blame all we want, but at this point it will not change the fact that you have been magically bound to this competition. We can find no ways to break the binding. The only option is to compete, or risk being turned into a squib, or possibly even worse.

"I even investigated the idea of having faux events held where you and the other champions simply use some sort of simple, non-deadly competition events up front, to fulfill the Goblet's basic requirements and release you from the magic, but it won't work. The Goblet is devious and would know better. It wouldn't recognize the events as valid."

Harry growled in frustration before heaving a defeated sigh and nodding his head. "I hate this," he grumbled. "The whole school thinks I entered this thing on purpose. The Gryffindors think I'm some sort of hero for breaking the rules and getting away with it, while the rest of the school hates me for being a cheat and taking the glory away from Cedric. It's stupid! No one believes that I didn't enter this stupid tournament! They all think I'm being ridiculous when I suggest that someone might have entered me in hopes of getting me killed! They act like I'm exaggerating or being over-dramatic. I don't think any of them even realize this whole thing is seriously dangerous, or that someone might actually _not_ one to compete!"

Lucas sighed sadly and looked to be about to say something when Ludo Bagman called out and got everyone's attention. He gave a small speech explaining the wand weighing and other such details as well as introducing Mr. Ollivander. Then each champion was brought up and had to present their wand to Ollivander for his examination. The details of each wand was recorded before it was given back to it's owner, and then the four Champions were introduced to Rita Skeeter – a writer for the Daily Prophet.

Harry's grandfather was instantly standing just behind him and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. The gentle squeeze he gave put Harry on his guard with the woman.

"We'll be having a photo shoot, you see," Bagman was saying, "And Rita here is doing a small piece on you four for the Prophet!"

"Perhaps not quite so small, Ludo," Rita said, smiling coyly before her eyes fell predictably upon Harry. "Ah, Harry Potter! I was wondering if perhaps I could maybe have a private word with you, hmm? Being our youngest champion. You know, add a bit of color to the article?"

"Oh, I'm sure that wouldn't be a proble –" Ludo began to said excitedly.

"Are you interviewing all of the Champions?" Lucas cut in abruptly, looking shrewdly at Rita.

"And who might you be, sir?" she asked, cocking a single brow at Harry's grandfather.

"I am the Marquis Lucas Merovich Conseil of the Veela Nation, and I am Harry Potter's maternal grandfather and his legal and magical guardian. If you intend to interview my grandson, you will do so with me present. Now, are you intending to interview all of the Champions or are you just hoping to use my grandson to conjure yourself some gossip rag drivel, _Ms. __Skeeter?_" he replied in a biting tone.

Her eyes widened with shock for all of one second before a rather greedy look glazed over her features.

"Marquis Conseil! My, what a wonderfully pleasant surprise! I had heard whispers, of course, but... well, this is just quite a surprise. Of course as Harry's grandfather, you are more than welcome to join us. I would love to ask you some questions as well."

Harry seemed to have caught on a bit by this point and glared skeptically at the reporter. "Are you interviewing Fleur, Cedric and Krum as well?" Harry asked.

She looked at him blankly for a moment before giving him a pandering sort of smile. "Of course dear. Of course. But seeing as how you're the youngest, why don't we have our little chat first, hmm?"

"I don't see how age has anything to do with it," Harry retorted flatly.

Her smile got a bit tighter, but she kept it firmly in place.

Lucas lightly squeezed Harry's shoulder again and Harry looked up at him.

"Could you give me a moment, Ms. Skeeter?" Lucas asked, giving her a rather forced polite smile.

"Oh, of course," she simpered.

Lucas led them over to the wall and leaned down slightly.

_'Harry, __I __had __a __thought,'_ Lucas said in French in a quiet voice.

_'What?'_

_'You expressed how your school mates all seem intent on believing you entered the tournament on your own, yes?'_

_'Yeah, what about it?'_

_'We could attempt to set the record straight with this reporter. She's obviously hungry for a story. I know of her work, Harry. She can be vicious in her quest for the most juicy story. We have a few like her back in Paris as well, and they can either be your worst nightmare, or your best friend, depending on how you learn to use them. She wants a story Harry, and if you don't give her anything, she's likely to just make one up.'_

Harry's eyes went wide and he felt sick. The last thing he wanted some some bloodthirsty reporter hounding him and making up lies. _'What __should __we __do?'_

_'Like I said – she wants a story. There is undeniably a story here to be had, Harry. It's just a matter of whether or not you're comfortable letting it get out to the public.'_

_'What story?'_

_'That there is likely some sort of corruption at work here within the Ministry or even within Hogwarts itself, and that someone is trying to get you killed. Harry, only a very limited number of people magically capable of this tampering had access to that Goblet the one night it was active, and many of those people are in very high positions of power. The investigation into the tampering is going obscenely slow, and the Ministry is trying to keep it very hush-hush. The insinuation that someone is attempting to get you hurt or killed by entering you in the tournament will likely be juicy enough to temp her away from any other nonsense she might come up with on her own. Not to mention the insinuation of a Ministry cover-up and possible scandal. It might also help to convince some of your classmates that you did not do this on purpose.'_

Harry paused and frowned thoughtful as he considered the suggestion. Finally he gave a curt nod and the two went back to Rita.

"What we have to say might take more than the limited amount of time we have available before the photo shoot," Lucas said as soon as they'd returned to her. Her eyes lit up hungrily almost instantly.

"Oh, I'm sure we can make the time," she said smiling greedily.

"Interview the other champions first," Harry said firmly. "Then we can do the photo or whatever, and when that's all done, you can talk with my grandfather and I."

She hesitated for only a moment before smirking again and agreeing.

The 'interviews' with the other Champions were obviously rushed, and she spent more time with Krum than the other two. Finally the four Champions were gathered into a group and the wizard with the camera took several shots of them before starting to pack up his equipment. The other Champions filtered out of the room, although they did glance back curiously as it became obvious that Harry wasn't leaving yet. Dumbledore also lingered behind, but after Lucas gave him a pointed look, he agreed to wait out in the hall.

Rita had her photographer, who was apparently named Bozo, wait on one side of the room while she pulled up a few chairs and sat down expectantly. She pulled out an odd quill that seemed capable of writing on it's own and set it floating magically in the air with a bound pad of parchment.

"If you're going to use one of those things, set it to direct dictation, or don't use it at all," Lucas said pointedly as he sat down and glared balefully at the quill.

Rita's smile got more strained and her lips were pressed a bit thin, but managed to maintain it and she turned and flicked her wand a the quill a moment later.

"So," she said, smiling that sickly sweet smile, "where shall we begin?"

– –

Rita Skeeter's article appeared in the Daily Prophet the very next day, and Harry was shocked to see how enormous it had become. As had been agreed, she _had_ included a blurb about the other Champions and the tournament itself at the start of her article – one paragraph had actually remained on the front page with a note saying it would be continued on page 9 – and then the remainder of the first page was dedicated to Harry along with a rather large photo of him, cropped from the group photo.

Harry had had to sit at the table, close his eyes, and breath in slowly through his nose for several seconds before he could squash down his anger enough to keep reading.

She'd dedicated an irritating amount of space in covering a brief biography of Harry's history, his parents death, the vanquishing of the Dark Lord, and Harry vanishing – then followed by a rather colorful recap of Harry's first few years at Hogwarts. Since Harry and his grandfather had not actually talked with her _at __all_ on these subjects, they were far from accurate, and seemed mostly hearsay from Harry's classmates, a number of whom she had apparently interviewed.

She did put quite a bit of emphasis on the continual attempts on Harry's life during his years at school – even bringing up his hexed broom first year, and the bludger that tried to kill him in second. Harry was less than pleased with her portrayal of Sirius. That was another subject they hadn't discussed at all, but now he was rather wishing he had since he was being painted as a murdering psychopath, who was still at large and could very well be making an attempt at Harry's life again at _any__moment!_

Finally, on page three, she got to the part that they'd actually discussed during the interview – namely how Harry had been forced into the competition by someone else _confuding_ the cup and putting his name in under a fake fourth school. It talked about Dumbledore's incompetent security, Ministry officials blundering security and using dangerous ancient artifacts without fully understanding how they worked or what the consequences of using them could be, and of course, accusations against the competence of the investigation being conducted to discover the true culprit behind this crime.

It painted Harry to be the victim, forced into a deadly tournament against his will, with insidious and unscrupulous motives at work –_no __doubt, __the __person __behind __this __wanted __poor __Mr. __Potter __to __die __in __the __course __of __this __horribly __deadly __tournament. __After __all, __he __was __only __just __barely __fourteen, __and __no __where __near __the __level __of __experience __or __skill __of __his __fellow __champions __who __were __all __of __age __and __had __entered __the __tournament __willingly._

In the end, Harry really wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing. Mostly, he was embarrassed, but he suspected it would have only been much much worse, if they hadn't spoken with the awful woman. His grandfather was right – if they hadn't given her a story to work with, she probably would have just made one up completely.

The last bit of the article that annoyed and embarrassed Harry the most was the insinuation that he and Hermione were some sort of item. _Harry __Potter __has __found __Love __at __Hogwarts. _It had said. Apparently she'd interviewed Colin Creevey and he'd said that Harry could hardly ever be seen in the school without Hermione Granger at his side. Harry had just groaned and buried his face in his hands.

The article had, of course, also spent quite a bit of time gushing over the revelation that Harry was a quarter veela, and it made questioning allusions to whether or not Harry had snared Hermione in his Veela spell.

That evening, Harry and Hermione had both eaten dinner in the kitchens to hide from the crowds in the Great Hall. This had probably not been the wisest of ideas since it meant that they were _both_ missing, only egging on the rumors.

But the article had, had at least one positive effect on the general atmosphere of the school in regards to Harry. Fewer people were openly scorning him, and more were actually looking at him with curiosity, and he'd actually had several people come up and ask him if it were true that he really hadn't entered his name into the tournament. For the first time, when he insisted that he really and truly hadn't, some of them actually seemed to believe him.

The Gryffindors were more pensive as well. They seemed to have actually paused in their excitement and wondered if someone were really trying to get their housemate killed.

Monday morning came and Harry gave a quiet relieved sigh as he sank down onto his stool in Potions beside Draco, feeling a sense of relief to just be in the quiet dungeon room and away from the manic crowd and stares of the Great Hall.

"So... you and Granger?" Draco's cool voice spoke from beside him.

Harry's head whipped to the side and he sputtered. "No!" he exclaimed, almost frantically and shaking his head.

Draco's face softened and his posture which had apparently been rather stiff a moment earlier, clearly eased considerably.

"She's just a friend! I swear. She's like my _sister_. We're not –" Harry continued, but his voice trailed off and he felt himself flush and he ducked his head.

He wasn't sure why it was so important to him that Draco not think he and Hermione were dating. It had been annoying and embarrassing with everyone else, and Ron had been glaring at him even _more_ angrily since it came out, but he had been filled with a sense of horror at the idea of _Draco_ of all people believing that part of the article.

"So how much more of that article was pure rubbish?" Draco asked lightly.

Harry scoffed. "Almost that whole thing was rubbish. The only part that's even remotely accurate is the stuff about me being entered into the tournament and the Ministry flopping about like dead fish with the investigation."

Draco hummed and nodded giving Harry a commiserating look. "So are more people at least inclined to believe you now? I mean, that you didn't enter this ridiculous tournament."

"Well, the Gryffindors are being less stupid about it. There are some, I think, that still believe this is all just my way of covering my arse for whatever I did to get into the tournament, but I think some people finally decided to use their brains a bit and are starting to realize there's no way I would have any idea how to _confund_ that Goblet."

"Yes, well the students of this school _do_ usually require things to be presented right beneath their noses and in the most simplistic and easy to understand terms possible before they even start to comprehend it. There are bound to be some stragglers who just don't catch on. But they're just so beneath us, I really don't think that their opinions are even vaguely worth your concern," Draco drawled and Harry found himself grinning widely before he broke and chuckled, shaking his head.

"Could you possibly have made that any wordier, or maybe sound just a bit more pompous?" he asked, still snickering.

Draco just turned his head slightly, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye and smirking smugly.

Harry calmed down his snickers and the two sat in quiet for a moment longer as more of the class found their way into the classroom and took their seats. Snape appeared to be sorting through some parchment on his desk and hadn't yet bothered to even _look_ at the students yet.

Harry fidgeted for a moment, not sure why he suddenly felt so nervous. It was just _Draco_... but...

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Um... thanks."

Draco turned and blinked at him in confusion. "Not that I don't always accept signs of gratitude from others for my greatness, but what exactly might you be thanking me for at the moment?"

Harry ducked his head. "Just... for standing by me. For believing me when I told you I didn't enter this thing. It means a lot to me."

Draco just shrugged dismissively and looked back towards the front of the class. "As I said – only an idiot would be stupid enough to believe you'd honestly entered this tournament. And I'm no idiot."

Harry grinned. "No... you're not. But still. Thanks."

– –

After the article came out, Hermione had started to renew her efforts to get Ron and Harry to make up, but she wasn't getting anywhere. It was obvious that Hermione didn't want to give up either of her friends, but neither of her friends wanted anything to do with each other so she was left to pick between them. This, of course, put her in a very uncomfortable position.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared most of their classes with the exceptions being Hermione taking a few extra, and Ron being solo in Divination. Because of this, whenever classwork required groups, in previous years, they'd usually teamed up. More often than not, _pairs_ were required, and in those cases, Hermione usually let Ron and Harry partner up while she helped someone else – usually Neville since he needed it the most. But now Ron and Harry wanted nothing to do with each other since Ron was still stubbornly unwilling to approach Harry and apologize for his actions, and Harry _definitely_ wasn't going to apologize for becoming friends with Draco or entering a tournament that he _didn't enter_.

This being the case, Hermione was left having to chose who to partner with, and it was obviously causing her some stress. She'd stuck mostly with Harry over the previous week since he'd been basically shunned by the student body outside of Gryffindor house, and she had firmly believed he needed the support more than Ron did, but _now_ there were all those rumors about them _dating_, and neither were sure how to best deal with that.

On the first Care of Magical Creatures class that week, they were all called to pair up, and Hermione was once again left standing in uncertainty over who to go to. In this instance, the decision was made for her easily when Draco walked right over to Harry and started up a conversation, as if it were just _assumed that_ they'd partner up, and it wasn't even worth the trouble to actually _ask_. Harry was grinning dumbly and Hermione found herself peering at them curiously again for a moment before shaking her head and making her way over to Ron.

In a move that the class was grateful for, they were _not_ working outside on the grounds today. They'd gone into one of the large enclosed outbuildings where the magical creatures were often kept when it was cold and introduced to the little things they'd be working with that day. They were called sowls, and at the sight of them, every girl in the class – even Hermione – went 'awe!'. The guys mostly snickered, but even they couldn't pretend the things weren't cute.

Hagrid said that one of the students from Beauxbaton's had brought one as a pet and had gone to Hagrid, asking for help with it's dietary needs. Hagrid, being a lover of exotic magical creatures, had been thrilled to find something he was unfamiliar with and had started asking questions about the little guys. It turned out her father was a breeder of them, and since he was trying to get them to catch on in other countries as pets, he'd brought this batch of them to Hogwarts so the students could 'learn about them'.

Draco had quietly snickered at that. "No doubt the man is hoping every girl in here is going to fall in love with the little things and beg their parents to buy them one for Christmas or something," he said quietly to Harry, and Harry grinned and nodded.

They had the face of a baby eagle owl, with the long tufty ears that stick up, except that they had no feathers, but instead had fur. They still had the standard curved owl beak and the outrageously large round eyes, and the generally squashed flat sort of face to them, but that's where the similarity to owls ended.

Obviously - they had fur instead of feathers, and the fur formed a bit floofy ruff around the neck, but their bodies were more like one might expect from something like a tiny racoon, or perhaps a very short fat ferret. Their tails were also rather enormous – at least twice the length of the rest of their body – and incredibly bushy. They were reminiscent of red panda, or maybe a racoon's tail; with a distinctive strip pattern going down the length.

Their little feet were rodent-like – sort of like what you'd expect on a squirrel, and they were obviously very good climbers. Hagrid went on to tell them that the Sowl's natural territory was arboreal, and Harry was impressed Hagrid knew a word that big, and then mentally scolded himself for the thought, as it really wasn't very nice.

The class was spent handling the little things, and drawing sketches of there different appendages, like the shape of the pads on their feet, or making notes on scale and distinctive markings, and then about their eating habits and dietary needs.

Aside from being cute, Sowls were supposed to be very good at inspiring original ideas, if they really liked you. Supposedly, if you had one as a pet and formed a good bond with it, it could sit on your shoulder while you worked and you'd find yourself inspired with the best ideas you'd ever had in whatever ventures you were perusing. Or so claimed the breeder.

One thing was for sure. They were cute, and very soft and cuddly. The things were quite affectionate, actually, and they seemed to especially like perching themselves on people's shoulders.

The little reddish-brown one that he and Draco were working with was presenting sitting on Draco's shoulder preening Draco's silver-blond hair with it's little beak and Draco wasn't even getting incensed at it's affront against his precious hair.

"I have to tell you, Harry – the man who gave Hagrid these things was probably a genius. Even _I_ think I want one. He's definitely going to be selling some of these to students before the year is out."

Harry snickered and resumed the little sketch he was making showing how much bigger the sowl's tail was in comparison to the rest of it.

"They're very affectionate," Harry observed as the little sowl started to nuzzle it's head into the side of Draco's cheek making some sort of cooing sound like a dove or a pigeon.

"They're obscenely soft. I swear if the little monster weren't so cute, I'd never stand for it rubbing its scent all over me like this."

Harry laughed lightly, smiling widely and ducked his head and finished up the last few marks on his drawing. "Okay, I'm done. Want to switch off?"

Draco pouted playfully before huffing out a put-upon sort of sigh and reached up to dislodge the furry creature from his shoulder and pass it over. The sowl climbed onto Harry's shoulder but then crawled around the back of his neck to the other side and started doing this pawing thing with it's front paws that you might expect more from a cat. Harry twitched and cringed as it clawed at him and Draco snickered and pointed. His snickers switched into all out laughter when the sowl was apparently not satisfied with Harry's shoulders and instead climbed up onto his hair and seemed to settled down into it as if it were some sort of nest.

Harry just gaped and tried not to move too much and dislodge the little thing since that would no doubt result in him getting scratched or bit.

Draco finally managed to calm down his amusement and started working his way through his own sketches; still smiling and occasionally chuckling under his breath. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"So what are you doing for the Hogsmeade weekend, Harry?" Draco asked nonchalantly as he sketched.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know. I hadn't made any plans."

"Want to come with me?" Draco went on, still keeping his eyes firmly on his drawing.

Harry blinked. "Well..." Harry paused and glanced over at Ron and Hermione working together on the other side of the room. "Yeah, sure," he said, looking back at Draco and finding a small grin working its way onto his face as he looked at the blond. "I know Hermione is getting stressed having to pick between spending time with me or Ron. It will make it easier on her if she doesn't even have to worry about it."

"I don't see why she's even bothering with the Weasel. I've always known he was an idiot and a git, but now he's shown just how worthless a friend he is, too. I don't think he's worth _either_ of your time," Draco sneered airily. "Granger is so much better than he is," he muttered at the end.

Harry's brows raised into his forehead slightly and he felt the corner of his mouth turn up at the almost-compliment _Draco __Malfoy_ had just given muggleborn Hermione Granger. Then his mind went back to the rest of what Draco had said and he sighed and shrugged, still feeling rather sore on the subject of Ron Weasley, himself. "She says he's jealous," Harry mumbled.

"Which is just another sign of how much of a fool-idiot he is," Draco bit out. "He's been your friend for what? More than three and a half years? How can he possibly believe you entered the tournament on your own? And to be _jealous_ of you for getting roped into this debacle? Is he a complete idiot?"

Harry heaved a heavy sigh and shrugged. "I think the thousand galleon prize money is part of it, I guess. That and the 'eternal glory'," Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Like I need any of that," he mumbled bitterly.

"Exactly. And he should know that! He's been your friend for years. He's an arse, plain and simple. And he's not worth your time anymore. He did this to himself. _He_ was the one who decided to stop being friends with you. It's his loss."

Harry made a humming sound, but didn't exactly sound very enthused.

The two were quiet for a moment longer while Draco continued his sketch. "Don't let him get to you," he said quietly. "To hell with Ron Weasley and his jealousy. You don't need a friend like him. Someone that would drop like a hat you just because his delicate ego's been bruised, and he's overly insecure. You and I will go to Hogsmeade and we'll have a brilliant time. Don't let yourself think about the tournament at all for one whole day. Sound good?" Draco finally looked up and their eyes locked.

Harry felt a light fluttering in his chest and that lump in his throat was back along with an intense warmth.

Harry smiled and ducked his head, breaking eye contact for a moment before looking back up. "Sounds good," he said quietly, smiling. Then he squawked in shock as the sowl scrambled from it's perch on his head where it had been dislodged slightly, and slid down the back of his neck, digging it's claws in as it went.

Draco laughed and Harry scowled at him mildly for a moment before grinning and laughing with him.

– –

Saturday morning Harry ate his breakfast quickly so he could be ready to leave with Draco for Hogsmeade by nine. About half way through his meal, one of the school owls flew in with a note strapped to it's leg and landed on the table beside his plate. He untied it and found it was a note from Hagrid asking Harry to come by his hut that night at midnight, and told him to bring his cloak.

Harry frowned at the note, finding himself both bewildered and very curious. He scrunched it up and stuffed it into his pocket before finishing off the last of his bacon and standing up. Draco had apparently been watching him because he stood at the same time and they made eye contact and nodded.

Harry called out a quick goodbye to Fleur and her friends, as well as Hermione and then trotted across the hall to the large double doors and left with Draco unaware of the pair of scowling blue eyes that followed him as he left.

Hermione stood up suddenly and Ron's gaze switched over to her.

"Where are _you_ going?" he snapped and she turned and glared at him.

"The library."

"The library?" he exclaimed incredulously. "But it's a Hogsmeade weekend!"

"So? At this point, I'd rather be in the library. I think I'll find better company there. Less _immature_," she said snippily before turning and leaving.

Ron just scowled and sat himself back down in his seat, glaring angrily at anything and everyone that came within range of his vision.

–

Draco had done as promised and managed to keep Harry's mind off of the tournament the entire time they were down in the village. Harry had never spent such a large duration of casual time with Draco before that point. Generally their interactions were limited because they were almost always in class, or in the library, neither environment was very intuitive for casual, social interactions, or lengthy conversations.

They wandered through the staples of a Hogsmeade visit first since it was early enough that they were dodging the crowds. Honeydukes was first, and they both filled heafty-sized bags of sweets, and for once Harry felt no need to try and hold back for fear of making Ron feel bad for not being able to afford to get himself as much, or the fear that if he tried to give Ron a bunch of extra snacks the ginger would get uppity and insist he didn't need anyone's charity.

In fact, a visit to Hogsmeade quickly proved to be much less stressful without Ron and his money insecurities. After the sweets shop, they visited Zonko's Joke shop, although they mostly just window shopped, pointed at laughed at the various items on sale, and talked about nothing and everything all at once. By the time they were done with Zonko's it was 10:30 and more and more Hogwarts students were filling the little village. They visited Spintwitches; a sporting goods store where Draco eyed some Seeker's gloves and a practice snitch. This led to more commiserating over the lack of any Quidditch that year at school, and how totally unfair that still was. After that they went to Tomes and Scrolls because Draco wanted to look at books.

They had lunch at the Three Broomsticks and ended up sitting in the corner booth nursing butterbeers for over an hour and a half, just talking, laughing, and sharing stories. It wasn't all funny stories though, and at one point the pair found themselves admitting in more subdued tones of some of the less than stellar parts of their childhood. Despite the subject matter, Harry felt lighter having shared some of it with someone who could actually sort of understand.

They had very different childhoods though – there was no mistaking that – but neither had really gotten a lot of exposure to familial warmth in their youth.

"I know they love me," Draco had said in a quiet voice at one point while he looked to some spot on the wall with unfocused eyes. "But I don't think either of them really know how to show it. My grandmother Druella – my mother's mother – died a few years ago, and I don't think anyone wept at her funeral. She was a very cold woman, and I rather suspect she was a very cold mother. I can't really blame my mother for not knowing how to be a mother, considering what she had as an example." He sighed and looked down before taking another drink from his cooling mug of butterbeer. He cracked a self-deprecating sort of smirk and looked back at Harry. "She spoiled me rotten though. I think that's all she could think of to do since she couldn't quite bring herself to actually hug me."

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry said in a quiet voice.

Draco just shrugged dismissively. "Don't be silly, Harry. I still think I had it better than you did. And it's not like it was all bad. There have been times when I think I've gotten glimpses at a softer side of her. Times when it was just the two of us, out on a holiday where Father couldn't make it. She'd tell me stories about her childhood - the bits that weren't just cold and proper, but some of the funner times. She even told me about her cousin Sirius a few times and how she secretly adored him, even though his mother and the rest of the family couldn't stand his Gryffindorish tendencies. She said he was such a charmer, and could always make her laugh. She was just afriad of showing it to anyone. I think that's her biggest problem. She's always been afraid to try being a real person... I've been the same way. It's all these high society expectations, I suppose. Just the same... I'd take it over living with magic-hating _muggles._"

Harry considered pointing out that while Harry's childhood with the Dursley's had been awful, at least _now_ he had a warm and loving family, while Draco was still stick with _Lucius __Malfoy_ and his ice-queen mother, but decided that would be an awful idea and kept his mouth shut.

Draco stared off into the distance of the pub and twisted his face up before he began to speak in a somewhat mocking, overly uptight, voice. "Sit up straight, Draco. Mind your manners, Draco. Only speak when your spoken to. Straighten your robes, Draco. Be quiet. Stand there and be polite. Greet the guests Draco. Isn't he a perfect little gentleman? Don't smile like that dear. Don't run Draco. Walk more proper, Draco. You're a Malfoy, Draco, don't embarrass the family, Draco." Finally he let out a small sigh before looking at Harry and shrugging. "It wasn't exactly a _fun _childhood, but it certainly could have been worse. I know Nott's father regularly cursed him when he wasn't _just __perfect_. The worst my parents ever did was a stinging hex if I misbehaved too badly, or broke something valuable that couldn't be mended, or wasn't quite _perfect_ at some dinner party."

Harry hummed quietly and took a drink from his mug, keeping his eyes on the table.

They were silent for a couple minutes before Draco blew out a deep breath. "Well, we managed to get this conversation deep into depressing territory. How about a subject change?"

Harry looked up and gave Draco a small smile and nodded his head.

"I think I can convince my father to let me visit my cousin Ysabel's family in France for the summer," Draco said, smirking widely with accomplishment.

Harry blinked. "I thought your father was estranged from all his family in France?"

"Well, not _all _of the Malfoy family has been –" he paused and cleared his throat before twisting up his face into a sneer that made his face look a great deal like his fathers, "_contaminated_ by filthy creature blood." He even imitated his father's tone of voice rather perfectly and Harry's eyes went wide.

"Whoa, that was almost creepy. Don't do that again," Harry said, looking dubious and making Draco break out into laughter.

"Yes, well, like I was saying; not _all_ of my family in France is of Veela descent. The line that Ysabel is from is still very well respected and politically powerful, and they're pureblood, so no veela in them. Not that I know of, anyway. Father's kept up positive relations between them for the sake of keeping some contact with the family in France. I've met her and her children at a few family events and such, and we get on well enough. And while my father may want nothing to do with our Veela relatives in France, Ysabel and her family have no qualms with their supposedly 'tainted blood', so if I stayed with her family, I could make contact with some of the others."

Harry grinned. "That's brilliant. Maybe you'd get to come and finally see the Veela Nation! I could show you around Iledevol! It'd be fantastic!"

Draco smiled widely and nodded. "I'd really like that. I've really started to get excited about the whole Veela side of my ancestry. I was always taught to be ashamed of it, but I realize now that was just my father's jealousy and inferiority complex – you really were right about that. And why shouldn't I be proud of what I am? I think it's brilliant. It makes me special, not inferior," he said with a slightly bitter tinge to his voice. He shook his head and smiled softly up at Harry. "I'm still trying to work on mother some since she doesn't like the idea of hardly seeing me at all during the summer, after hardly seeing me at all during the school year. But its not like we actually _do _anything together during the summers anyway. Unless you count the stupid parties, and I could care less about wandering around some ballroom, fending off the hallow-headed masses asking for dances and listening to Ministry witches gossip about each others' dresses."

Harry grimaced and nodded in agreement. His grandmother and aunt had taken him to a couple parties like that and he definitely didn't consider them an enjoyable addition to his summer holidays.

A short time later the pair left the pub and returned to walking down the now-crowded village streets. Draco nodded his head down a side-street and the pair headed towards yet another shop that Harry had never before bothered to visit. Dominic's Maestro's was apparently a musical instrument shop – some magical, and some more mundane but with various enchantments for self-cleaning or self-maintenance. Auto-tuning charms and such.

"Do you play an instrument?" Harry asked curiously as they walked through the otherwise deserted shop.

Draco was running his fingers delicately over the pillar of a large ornately decorated harp.

"Violin, harp, and piano," Draco responded simply.

Harry gaped. "All _three?__"_

"I'm no master by any means, of course," Draco said with a dismissive shrug. "I'm better at the piano than the others, I suppose. Mother hand me taking music lessons since I was four. I started violin the summer I turned six. Mother plays the harp and she taught me a bit."

"Wow. I wish I could have learned to play an instrument. It seems like something that would be neat to know."

Draco shrugged and looked back at Harry. "It's not like you're incapable of learning new skills. There's nothing stopping you from trying to learn an instrument now."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "I rather doubt I could find the time at this point. I've hardly even had time to practice any of my veela meditations this term so far, and I haven't been able to perform the transformation at _all,_ even though I've been dying to."

"Even without Quidditch practice to go to? Are you really that busy?"

Harry twisted up his face a bit before giving Draco a sheepish grin, "Well, maybe I could have squeezed some stuff in there somewhere before now, but I suspect I'm going to be pretty busy from here on out. I have no idea what I'll be needing to do for this ridiculous tournament, but I need to do something to try and prepare."

"None of this tournament stuff. Today is a tournament-free day, remember?"

Harry chuckled and nodded his head. "Yes Draco," he said with amusement.

Draco smirked before turning back to the harp and running his fingers gently over the strings, making a beautiful resonance of sound to fill the small dusty shop.

"If you could learn an instrument, what do you think it would be?" Draco asked.

Harry hummed thoughtfully and he turned and ran his eyes around the room. He walked over to the display with all the woodwind instruments and stopped at a polished silver flute. "Maybe a flute," Harry mused. "Hagrid gave me this little hand-carved flute for Christmas first year, and it's nice – sentimental value, more than anything I suppose – but I think I'd like something with more range, I guess. I like the sound a flute makes though."

Draco came up behind him and hummed his agreement. He looked over Harry's shoulder at the different flutes and clarinets on display in front of him. "I don't think a flute would be too difficult to learn, and there aren't any reeds to deal with like you have with other woodwinds like saxophones and clarinets and such."

"Reeds?" Harry asked, looking confused.

Draco smirked and chuckled shaking his head. "See that bit of wood there at the mouth piece?" he said, reaching around Harry's shoulder and pointing at a large saxophone to Harry's right.

"Oh, yeah," Harry said in a soft, almost breathy voice. Draco looked back at Harry and noted that he wasn't looking at the saxophone at all, but rather at Draco, who was just behind his shoulder, so close they were practically touching.

"Have you been practicing your veela transformation lately?" Harry asked suddenly, and Draco frowned and blinked at him in confusion at the sudden, seemingly random switch in subject matter.

"No, I haven't had the time. I can't quite manage to find any place secure and private enough to risk it. I suppose I can hardly tease you about it when I've barely even found the time to practice my meditations. Why do you ask?"

Harry's mouth floundered a bit for a moment, and Draco found himself transfixed with the other boy's large, bright green eyes. When he was as close as he was right now, he could see the avian qualities in Harry's partially transformed eyes. They were the tiniest bit larger than they should be, but it only managed to make him look that much more...

"It's just that your scent has gotten so much stronger since the start of term," Harry replied, his voice still somewhat breathy.

"My scent?" Draco replied, his own voice taking on a somewhat husky quality. His mouth felt dry and he swallowed thickly.

Harry felt like his chest was near-bursting for some reason. His head felt heavy and heady. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd noticed Draco smelled nice. He'd been noticing it all week, but it seemed even stronger now than ever. And he was so close. His skin was prickling and he could feel the warmth along his back and shoulders from where Draco stood just inches from him.

"Yeah," Harry nearly whispered, staring over his shoulder into Draco's sharply silver eyes. They used to be gray, didn't they? They seemed so bright now.

"You know... now that you mention it, yours has been getting stronger lately too," Draco said, and Harry felt himself shiver slightly. Draco's voice sounded deeper and rougher than usual. "You're sure you haven't been transforming at all lately?"

Harry shook his head slightly, still finding his eyes locked in place with Draco's. His breathing had gotten shallow at some point and his whole body felt warm and tingly. A pleasant curling was growing in his gut and he realized with some distant part of his mind that his pants were getting rather tight.

Draco's tongue darted out and wet his lips and Harry's gaze shot down to them and lingered on the now-shiny, slightly red-pink lips. Draco had nice lips. He had nice skin too. Harry had once thought Draco's face was _pointy_, and he'd thought that like it was a bad thing, but he found he rather liked the angular nature of it now. The blond had really grown into his features and he looked... _good._ His jaw and his cheek bones were nicely defined. He was so –

The bell over the door range suddenly and as if some spell had suddenly and violently been broken the two boys practically jumped apart, gasping.

Both turned and looked at the door as a third year Ravenclaws came in, followed a moment later by two others, all chatting comfortably.

Harry felt himself flushing scarlet and looked away in embarrassment, hoping that no one would notice, or if they did, they'd think it was from the cold outside.

"I guess we should probably head out," Draco said in an almost hoarse voice and Harry glanced over and nodded his head in agreement. He didn't trust himself to speak. The pair shuffled around the girls and slipped out the door and back onto the street. Harry subtly adjusted himself as he passed through the door and was sure no one would notice. He was still slightly hard and his mind was whirling with confusion and denial.

Despite all the confusion flooding his head at the moment, he couldn't help the almost traitorous part of his mind that wanted to lean in closer to Draco as they walked, and breath in the boy's scent again. The wind was blowing lightly and with Harry a step behind Draco and to his side, he was directly down-wind and kept getting faint whiffs of the blond's shockingly pleasant smell.

Harry shook his head a bit, trying to clear his foggy mind and trotted a few steps to bring himself directly beside Draco, rather than a bit behind him.

Harry stuffed his hands into his cloak pockets and found the crumpled up note there. "Oh, I nearly forgot –"

"Hmm?"

"Hagrid sent me a note. He asked me to sneak out tonight at 11:30 and meet him for some reason. Didn't say why though."

"A professor asked you to _sneak __out_ after curfew?" Draco asked incredulously.

Harry just grinned sheepishly and shrugged, glad that the awkwardness of a minute before was already being forgotten.

"What do you think he wants?" Draco asked.

"No clue, really. I imagine he wants my help with some animal or something, though. Probably something nocturnal or maybe something that lives in the forest."

"You're going into the _forest_ around midnight?" Draco squawked. "Are you mad? Have you forgotten what happened in our first year when we were dragged into the forest at night with that man?"

Harry snorted bitterly. "I rather doubt I could ever forget _that._ But I'd like to hope I won't be running into Voldemort _this _time."

"V-v... are you telling me that _thing_ that was attacking the unicorn was the _Dark __Lord?__"_ Draco gasped.

Harry looked at Draco with some level of surprise and nodded. "Yeah – I guess no one really knew about that, huh? Well, I told Ron and Hermione, I guess..."

"Did you at least tell a teacher back then?" Draco exclaimed.

Harry frowned thoughtfully. "You know... I don't think I did. I didn't exactly think they'd believe me, or do anything about it, honestly."

"Merlin, Harry – _please_ tell me you don't still keep life-threatening encounters like that to yourself? And telling Granger and the Weasel _does __not __count!_"

"Oh no – I mean, now I've got adults that I actually believe will listen to me and _believe __me_. I tell my grandfather and my godfather just about everything, now."

"Well that's something, at least," Draco said, looking away. "Have you... have you encountered... _Him_ again since then? I mean... I've heard _rumors_, but they're always so outrageous and ridiculous and you never can tell what's just made-up rubbish and whats..." Draco trailed off and shrugged.

"I have," Harry said quietly after a few moments of the pair walking slowly down the cobblestone road. "At the end of first year, I faced him alone. He was possessing Professor Quirrell's body – did you know that?"

"No way!"

"You didn't know?" Harry asked incredulously.

"That Quirrell was possessed by the Dark Lord? No! I had no idea! We all heard he was after the Philosopher's Stone or something – although why the devil Dumbledore had that thing in a school is beyond me – and that somehow _you_ stopped him from getting it and then he vanished, but... _The __Dark __Lord? __Seriously?__"_

"Yeah. He possessed Quirrell and this awful deformed face was growing out of the back of the Professor's head. It's why he wore that turban. It covered up Voldemort's face on the back of his head."

"Oh, that's awful!" Draco exclaimed with a disgusted grimace.

"It was. And you didn't have to actually _see_ it. Or _touch_ it," Harry added and shuddered.

"You _touched_ him?"

"That's how I... I _killed_ him. He went to grab me and touching my skin burned him and caused him pain, so I just sort of _reacted_ and put my hands on his face. He starting screaming and his face started to bubble and crack and he started to crumble. It was awful. He fell apart and turned to dust and Voldemort's spirit left him and attacked me. Flew right through me and knocked me out. I woke up in the Hospital Wing after that."

"Holy shit," Draco whispered, looking at Harry with wide, horrified eyes.

Harry ducked his head, grimacing and feeling rather uncomfortable with the whole subject.

"So... so he's really not _dead?_" Draco whispered, sounding rather horrified, actually, and Harry glanced over at him hesitantly.

"I guess it depends on your definition of dead. But... but I don't think he _can_ die," Harry admitted, cautious of his words. There were some secrets he couldn't risk giving away that he _knew_. And he trusted Draco. He did. But he didn't trust Draco's father.

"Father always said that the Dark Lord had traveled further down the path towards immortality than any other wizard alive," Draco spoke in a soft, distant voice. But his face was clouded with worry, not hope or awe, like Harry might have feared would be there.

They had distinctly avoided discussing subjects such as this one before this point. Harry had grown to like Draco's company so much that he'd been terrified of upsetting their delicate balance by bringing any of them up. It was enough for him to know that Draco hadn't called Hermione, or anyone else as far as Harry knew, a 'mudblood' in over a year.

They hadn't discussed the Death Eater raid that happened at the Quidditch World Cup for the exact same reason. Even though a small voice in the back of Harry's mind had wondered if one of the robed and masked men who had been seen at the cup had just maybe been Draco's father. He'd squashed his curiosity though. What good could possibly come from questioning Draco on such a thing? Draco obviously had his differences with his father, but it was obvious to Harry that at one point Draco had idolized the man. He hadn't been a warm father, but Draco had still loved him, and he insisted that his father loved him back, even if he had a rather cold and distant way of showing it.

Harry sighed heavily, trying to clear his mind of the muddle thoughts. The subject change had been very effective in distracting Harry away from what had happened in the music shop, but he couldn't honestly say that he preferred talking about _this_.

"Do you think he'll try and come back again?" Draco asked quietly as he came to a stop and leaned against the side of a building. Harry walked over and leaned back against the building next to him and shrugged.

"Yeah. Probably. Part of him tried to come back in second year too. That's what was opening the Chamber of Secrets. It was the book your father slipped into Ginny's cauldron before school started. It was made by Voldemort and it possessed her."

Draco turned and gaped at him. "Wait, _what?__"_

"Your father had a book that had belonged to Voldemort. Before school started – you remember that fist fight your father got into with Mr. Weasley in Florish and Blott's before second year?"

Draco nodded numbly.

"Yeah, well, he used that as a distraction and when it was over he slipped the book into Ginny's cauldron. It sort of _possessed_ her and used her to open the Chamber of Secrets, and then when she was taken down into it, it was trying to drain her of all her life energy or something, so it could resurrect Voldemort."

"Great, Merlin! That's insane! What happened to her?"

"You really haven't heard about this?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Harry, _no __one_ knows what goes on with your crazy adventures – just that you do something insane, nearly die, and end up in the hospital wing for a week when it's over. Everyone is always insanely curious though. All I know about the Chamber thing is that the Weaslette was taken down there for some reason – which made no sense because even if they are blood-traitors, they're still purebloods – and that you went down there and brought her back up. There were some rumors about Slytherin's monster being down there, but nothing concrete."

"Oh, yeah, well it was down there. It was a Basilisk. More than fifty-feet long, in fact."

"A basilisk! What happened? How'd you get out?"

"Well, I had to fight it – I ended up getting Gryffindor's sword out of the sorting hat, and stabbed the Basilisk through it's mouth and into it's brain, but it bit me – you know, since I had to have my arm in it's mouth and all that..." Harry paused and shifted his cloak off one arm and rolled up the loose billowy sleeve of his robes to expose his upper arm and the perfectly round scar that was still there.

"Oh Merlin," Draco whispered in horror as he leaned over and looked at the scar. "Why aren't you dead? And did you say _Gryffindor's __sword?_"

"Fawkes – that's Dumbledore's phoenix – he appeared down in the Chamber and brought the sorting hat with him. I thought he was loony; I mean, what can I do with a _hat?_ But I put it on my head and then suddenly the pummel of the sword hit me, so I took it off, reached in, and pulled the sword out. After I got bitten, Fawkes came over and cried into the wound and that saved me."

"That is the most outrageous story I've ever heard!" Draco said in a quiet, still-very-horrified voice.

"It's true," Harry insisted instantly. "I'm really not making any of it up."

"I believe you," Draco said, still sounding too stunned and hallow to really even emote much. "It's still outrageous. So you saved Weasley's little sister from an enormous deadly snake that could have easily eaten you whole, and he's still _jealous_ that you got roped into this tournament?"

Harry coughed out an incredulous laugh and shook his head. "Yeah, pretty ridiculous, I guess."

"Ridiculous doesn't even begin to cover your life, Harry."

"Tell me about it."

–

The pair eventually called an end to their day and returned to the castle. They bid each other farewell at the Great Hall for dinner with Harry returning to the Gryffindor table and Draco going over to Slytherin.

Quite a few of Harry's house mates were giving him confused looked, probably in response to who Harry had walked in with, but no one actually had the guts to ask him about it. At this point, Harry already had so many people staring at him, and glaring at him, for the tournament that he just didn't give a damn what people thought about him befriending a Malfoy. Draco was better with pretty much everyone this year, as far as Harry could tell. It wasn't just with Harry that the blond had cooled off some. He didn't seem to be bullying anyone really – although he still got into spats with Ron whenever the two interacted; and Harry doubted that Draco would ever come off as honestly _polite_ to anyone who wasn't in a position of power or respect. And when he _was_ polite to people of power, it always had this hallow sense of false praise to it.

Draco was just sort of an arrogant git by nature, and yet Harry could still manage to find him amusing and enjoyable company. He could be nice and arrogant at the same time, if he wanted to. He even had a subtle self-mocking-ness to some of his arrogance and sarcasm sometimes that Harry found hilarious.

Hermione came into the Great Hall not too long after Harry sat down and he noticed that she came in alone. It was about twenty minutes later when Harry was finishing up that Ron came in with Dean and Seamus. He didn't look at either Harry or Hermione, and sat much further down the table from them. Harry frowned, confused as to why Hermione hadn't spent the day with Ron. It was one of the reasons why Harry had gone to Hogsmeade with Draco. It solved the whole problem of who Hermione had to choose to hang out with. And yet it looked like she hadn't hung out with _either_ of them.

Admittedly, Harry was still glad he'd gone with Draco. He's really enjoyed the day. The opportunity to learn more about him – to see him outside of class and to see another side of him. He was pretty damn sure that he'd enjoyed himself a lot more today with Draco than he would have if he'd spent the day with anyone else.

Harry's curiosity finally got the better of him and he asked Hermione how her day had gone in an attempt to figure out why she hadn't come in with Ron. She said she'd spent the day in the library and Harry had just sort of gaped at her. Who in their right mind passed up the chance to go to Hogsmeade to spend the day in the _library_? She could go to the library any day! In fact, she _did_ go to the library just about every day!

When Harry voiced his disbelief she had just stuck her nose into the air a bit and said that the company was better in the library.

Harry found this somewhat confusing since one of Hermione's most common complaints in the last few weeks had been that Viktor Krum spent an annoying amount of time in the library, causing all sorts of disruptions because of all the giggling fangirls that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Finally Harry just shook the whole subject off; deciding that he would probably never fully understand the girl, and focused instead on his meal.

Harry wandered the grounds for a while after that before returning to Gryffindor's common room and starting work on his Transfiguration essay that was due the following week. His mind occasionally wandered back to his day spent with Draco and a small smile would find its way onto his face.

Finally, eleven thirty approached and Harry made an act of heading off to bed. He went up to his dorm, closed the hangings around his bed, grabbed his cloak and the map and snuck back downstairs and out the portrait hole without anyone really noticing.

It wasn't too long before he found himself knocking on the door to Hagrid's cabin and was once again startled to find the man 'cleaned up' a bit. His hair was slicked back with something rather goopey, and he was wearing that awful smelling cologne again. He also had a dried thistle flower of some sort pinned to his coat.

"Hagrid, what are you wearing?" Harry exclaimed in confusion.

But Hagrid didn't seem particularly inclined to talk and hushed Harry before quickly asking him where his invisibility cloak was. Harry pulled it out and Hagrid told him to put it back on and to pull up the hood. Then he told him to follow close behind and not make a sound.

Harry eyed him warily but nodded and did as he was told. Minutes later he was following Hagrid deeper into the Forbidden forest along a path of some sort. Then Madame Maxime seemed to just appear out of no where and the pair talked and... _flirted_ for several minutes before resuming their journey and finally ending up in a large clearing of some sort.

Harry felt his eyes go wide as galleons as he spotted the large pens being manned by a large group of wizards all working together to try and gain control over a huge, fire-breathing _dragon_. Some movement and some yells from some distance to the left drew Harry's attention to the other fenced in areas and it quickly became apparent that there were a total of _four_ dragons.

One for each Champion, he reckoned.

He spotted Charlie Weasley amongst the dragon handlers and overheard Hagrid talking with him and mention something about nesting mothers.

He was _doomed._

– –


	9. When Dragons Breath Fire

Chapter 9 – When Dragons Breath Fire

Harry had hardly slept at all the night before. His mind just wouldn't shut up, and by the time morning dawned, Harry was a mess of nerves. He _needed_ to talk to someone, and even knowing that he had quite a few very viable options as to who he could go to for help, his mind still seemed to instantly supply Draco as the first and only person Harry could think of. He could call Sirius on the mirror – and he intended to, just... well, he wanted to talk to Draco first. And he'd write his grandfather too, of course but... Draco. He wanted to talk to Draco. That was all Harry could focus on.

As such, Harry ended up down in the Great Hall a bit earlier than he usually would, and sat down to eat his breakfast, filled with impatient anxiety as he watched the doors for each new additional student to come through them.

He was immensely grateful that Draco was apparently an early riser, when he'd only been sitting there for about five minutes when he saw the blond enter the Great Hall with Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind them.

Harry forced himself to remain seated, despite the strangely powerful urge to stand up and race across the hall. Instead he pushed his food around on his plate with his fork and brooded.

Finally, when he was convinced that Draco had had sufficient time to eat his breakfast, and Harry's nerves would no longer permit him to remain seated, he walked purposefully across the Great Hall, directly to the Slytherin table, earning himself quite a few wide-eyed and curious stares.

"Harry?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"Are you about done with your breakfast?" he asked, feeling incredibly jumpy and edgy.

Draco nodded slowly and pushed his plate away. "Is something wrong?"

"I..." Harry started but his voice left him and he just shook his head helplessly.

"It's fine. Let's go," Draco said as he stood up and stepped over the bench.

"Draco –?" Parkinson began questioningly, looking especially bewildered. Crabbe and Goyle also gave him questioning looks but he just shooed them all away and quickly followed Harry out of the hall. Harry ended up finding one of the unused classrooms and the pair entered it and closed the door behind them.

"Okay, so what's going on?" Draco asked, looking worried and anxious.

"I... do you know much about dragons?" Harry asked and there was a tinge of panic in his voice.

"Dragons?" Draco echoed incredulously. "I... well, yes, actually. I was sort of obsessed with them as a child. You should see the set of animated dragon figures I have back at home."

"How do you fight one?" Harry broke in, cutting Draco off.

Dawning understanding, instantly replaced with horror, filled Draco's eyes.

"No..." he whispered and shook his head. "They're not... you have to fight a _dragon? __A __dragon!__"_

Harry nodded his head numbly. "There's four of them being kept out in a clearing in the forest right now. That's what Hagrid wanted to show me last night. He had me go under my cloak and follow him out so I could see them."

"By the gods," Draco whispered, looking more and more sick with each passing second.

"What do I do? I don't know how to fight a _dragon!_ I wouldn't even know where to start! And they were huge! Huge, and they breathed _fire_!" Harry rambled in a panic.

"Well... you killed a basilisk – that was huge too?" Draco offered weakly.

"I _nearly __died __doing __that!_ And I had a sword! From what I understand, the only thing I get for the first task is _my __wand!_"

"Wait, okay, we need to calm down. Dragons... okay... oh! Oh!" Draco said sounding excited suddenly.

"What?" Harry asked anxiously.

"It's obvious! Pixie dust!"

"Pixie dust?" Harry said incredulously.

"It puts dragons to sleep almost instantly! Dragons love gold, you know, and pixies love shiny things, which usually meant them stealing and having huge stock piles of gold and jewels and such. So dragons would raid pixie hallows all the time. Not only was it easier stealing gold from pixies than it was to try and get it from humans, but pixies also apparently taste good and make nice dragon snacks. So pixies worked it into their dust magic so that it knocks dragons out cold."

"Really? Wow, I'd never even heard of that." Harry paused and frowned then, "But how the heck am I going to get _pixie __dust_ during the task? I'm only allowed my wand!"

"Well..." Draco started slowly, looking thoughtful. "Can you still summon things? Like... you can have a bag of pixie dust prepped and summon it to you once you're actually there."

"Okay, that might work," Harry said nodding and looking slightly less frantic. "I managed a successful summoning charm over the summer, but we haven't actually covered it yet in class so I haven't practiced it in a while. But once I get the pixie dust, how do I get it to the dragon?"

"A wind blasting charm?" Draco offered with a shrug. "We'll practice. It'll probably take a bit to get your aim right. But you really only need to get it to breath in a bit of the stuff, and that should knock it out. It's very potent. But first we need to get some pixie dust."

"Okay, so where do I find _that?_"

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but paused suddenly and looked thoughtful. "I'll get some," he finally said with a determined nod.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Or... well, I'm pretty sure I can manage it. Let me check one place first. If it won't work out, we'll have to scramble and see if we can come up with something else. There's only two days before the actual task, and you'll need to practice blasting the dust at a target... well, actually we'll just practice with sand or something. We can't risk wasting any of the actual dust, it's rather hard to come by in large quantities."

"And you're sure you can find some?" Harry asked, worriedly. "I can get a hold of my grandfather and he could probably get some from Paris or something if it comes to it."

"That's a good backup plan," Draco said with a thoughtful nod. "But let me try my source first."

"Okay..." Harry trailed off as he swallowed past the now slightly-less-horrifying lump of dread and terror in his chest that had been there all night, ever since first laying eyes on a team of two dozen trained wizards struggling to stun _one_ of the dragons.

"I'm going to go now, okay? I'll track you down in an hour and let you know if I was successful or not. Where will you be?" Draco asked.

"Um... probably the library. I need to look up a good spell for blasting the pixie dust in the dragon's face – unless you've got a suggestion?"

Draco grimaced. "I can think of a few possible charms that might do the trick, but digging around in the library certainly couldn't hurt. If you don't have anything by the time I come looking for you, we can just try out what I know. We can come back into this room and practice the spells and also make sure your summoning is up to snuff."

"Alright," Harry said with a sigh and a remotely relieved expression. It was amazing how big a difference it made to feel like he actually had some sort of _plan_ in the works.

"Okay, see you in an hour?"

Harry nodded, smiling thankfully.

Draco turned and started to head towards the door, but Harry reached out and caught his arm. Draco turned back and blinked at him with confused expectation.

"Just... thanks," Harry said softly, ducking his head and feeling embarrassed.

"What are friends for?" Draco asked, smirking with amusement. Harry looked up, blinked once and then smiled brightly.

– –

Severus Snape had just settled into his office after his Sunday-morning breakfast. He pulled a potions journal that had been published three months prior out of his desk and let out a small sigh of relief at the thought that he might _finally_ have some time to actually _read _it. He always made himself available for his Slytherins on the weekends, and the first month was always excessively busy – especially with the younger years that were still apt to suffering from bouts of home sickness, and pleading to use the floo in his office to call mummy.

Yet the demands on his time during the weekends had not lessened much, even though it was nearing the end of November. He'd become something of a go-to for the Durmstrang students once they'd arrived in late October, for some inexplicable reason, and Karkaroff himself had been rather persistently bothersome as well.

And the investigation into how that thrice-damned Goblet had been tampered with had been eating up all of his surplus time. The demands against his time had been so imposing that he'd hardly had time to deal with grading his classwork and planning out the assignments and the potions to be brewed.

But today, so long as no one came to bother him, he just might have a bit of time to himself.

As if on cue, there was a light knocking on the door to his office and he had to muster a great amount of strength to keep from groaning aloud. Instead he simply pinched the bridge of his nose for a minute in an attempt to suppress the urge to pretend he wasn't there, before he finally set the journal back down on his desk, stood up, and walked over to the door.

The person he found on the other side was mildly surprising, but rather more pleasant a sight than any of the sniveling first years.

"Draco," he remarked with only the slightest indication of his surprise. Instead he stood back and motioned with his hand for his godson to enter and closed the door behind him.

Draco went straight for the chair opposite Severus' desk and sat down. Severus walked over and returned to the chair behind his desk and looked at his godson expectantly.

"Uncle Sev, I have a favor to ask of you," Draco said while sitting perfectly straight-backed and as proper as his father had always expected of him.

Severus cocked a single eyebrow. Draco did not often call him '_Uncle_ Sev' while they were in Hogwarts. It was a subtle hint; a reminder of their more personal relationship, and pointedly stepping outside of their relationship as professor and student, or Slytherin and Head of House. This was Draco asking for a favor from his _godfather_; not his teacher or head of house.

"What is it, Draco?" Severus replied smoothly.

"I need a bag of pixie dust. I'll pay you for it, of course, but I do not have the time to wait to order it, and I know an amount of this quantity could take longer to acquire than I have on hand."

"A _bag_ of pixie dust?" Severus asked, mildly incredulous. Generally speaking, potions that made use of the substance barely used more than a pinch or two. The only reason that he had that quantity on hand was because he taught multiple sets of classes where each student would need an equal share, thus requiring a large store of it fairly regularly. But Draco was not an entire class, he was _one_ boy. It was difficult to imagine what Draco could possibly be doing that could require an entire _bag_ of the substance.

"Yes, sir," Draco said, still keeping a straight, passive face, and perfect posture.

"And what, pray tell, could you possibly need with a _bag_ of pixie dust?"

"I would rather not elaborate at this moment," Draco replied stiffly.

He kept an impressive front, but Severus could see his godson's nerves leaking through. The subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth. The tight way he was clenching one of his hands in the other and turning his knuckles white in the process.

Pixie dust. It was such an odd request. Severus couldn't really think of anything _bad_ that you could do with pixie dust. Not _really_. Nothing especially illegal, and while he could think of a few pranks a person could play using potions that involved pixie dust, Draco wasn't exactly inclined towards mass-pranks. He'd gotten into some minor fights during his first few years at Hogwarts, but he seemed to have pulled back from those tendencies the previous year. He'd even stopped fighting with Potter the previous year, as shocking as that had been.

Severus still wasn't sure what to think about the fact that the two appeared almost _friendly_ the last few weeks. The fact that Draco had been partnering with Potter during Potions class, _of __his __own __free __will_, had been... well, _bewildering; _and he'd seen the two of them in the Library and in the halls from time to time. He'd even seen Zabini and Parkinson studying with them. It was downright surreal, honestly.

It also made him wary. He liked his godson; he really did. But the boy had idolized Lucius for so long, and the first few years at Hogwarts, it was more than clear that Draco's entire persona at the school was an attempt to emulate his father. Severus had been friends with Lucius for years, and that put him in the unique position of knowing just how much of a ruthless bastard the man could be. It had saddened him a bit to see his godson following much the same path. And yet, Draco had appeared to be slowly distancing himself from that path over the last year.

Was his change in attitude towards Potter an honest attempt to veer down a different path, or was he possibly doing this _on _Lucius' orders? Severus wouldn't put it past the man to set Draco to a task such as this. _Get close to Potter... get him to trust you..._

The later felt more likely, and he was entirely unsure how he felt about the former. He had no love for the Potter spawn, and honestly, if Draco was going to try making a friend in another house, Severus rather wished he'd have picked _someone __else. __Anyone __else_.

His thoughts regarding Draco's friendship actually sparked the tiniest and vaguest shades of an epiphany, and it only took his lightening fast mind a moment to follow that idea down a winding train to make the connections necessary.

Pixie dust.

A _bag_ of pixie dust.

And what was currently sitting out in the middle of the forest being prepped for the first task in this ridiculous tournament? Dragons.

And what had Draco been especially obsessed with during his childhood? Dragons. If anyone would know enough about the beasts to make the connection between pixie dust and dragons, it was Draco.

Question was, how the hell had Draco or Potter come to learn what the first task was?

"This is for Potter, isn't it?" Severus drawled with a disdainful sneer.

Draco's eyes widened a fraction before his mask was back in place. Draco seemed to pause in thought for all of one second before he pressed on.

"Hagrid told Harry about the dragons," Draco said bluntly.

Well, that wasn't all that surprising, honestly. The man couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it. And if it was Hagrid's prerogative to tell Potter, then Potter could hardly be _blamed_ for having found out. Draco would also have no hesitation in shifting the blame off of Potter and squarely onto the shoulders of Hagrid, since Draco held no love for the man at all, and seemed to hold Potter in some level of esteem as of late.

"Seeing as how Harry didn't even _want_ to be in this tournament and is being given no choice but to participate or risk loosing his _magic_," Draco began to drawl a moment later, "I honestly don't have any qualms with doing what ever is necessary to make sure he doesn't end up dead. If that means giving him pixie dust, then I'm going to get him pixie dust."

Severus raised his brows in mild interest now. He'd been wanting to broach this subject with his godson for a while now, but had seen no easy way to go about it. But since Draco himself had come to him broaching the subject, Severus saw no qualms in taking advantage of the situation.

"Draco, I have been meaning to discuss the... Potter _situation_ with you for some time now," Severus began and he noticed Draco stiffen, and his eyes narrow minutely.

"And what _situation_ would that be?" Draco asked stiffly.

"Why are you doing this?" Severus asked leaning forward and peering into Draco's silver-gray eyes intently.

"Why am I don't _what?_" Draco shot back, sounding mildly annoyed.

"Befriending _Potter_. I'm not even sure how the hell the pair of you managed to go from being at each other's throats almost non-stop for two solid years, to being almost _friends_ now. But what I'm truly curious about is to why you would bother? Was this something your father put you up to? Does he honestly believe that there is something to be gained by planting you as Potter's _friend?__"_

Draco's chin tipped up imperiously and his eyes took on a sharp glint. "Father knows nothing of my friendship with Harry. I can guarantee that he most certainly hasn't put me _up __to __something_. And did it possibly occur to you that maybe all I might want from my friendship with Harry is to just _be __his __friend?__"_ Draco snapped.

Severus sat back slowly, raising his brows even higher in surprise and confusion.

"Why the devil would you want _that?__"_

Draco scowled angrily and turned his head to glare at the wall. "Being friends with Harry isn't like being friends with a Slytherin. It's like I can't be friends with someone in my own house without there being all these ridiculous power-plays and mind games constantly at work in the background. Even with Pansy, it's like there's always some other agenda, and Pansy is the closest I've ever had to a real friend. Blaise isn't too far off – he doesn't care too much for all the power struggles, but even so, he knows how to play the game, and he's smart. But being friends with Harry is simple. It feels more... _real_."

"Three quarters of the school are not Slytherin, Draco, there are plenty of potential friends to chose from. Why _Potter?__"_

Draco turned his obviously annoyed gaze back on Severus. "We have a lot in common, it seems. He's funny, and I have somehow managed to find I enjoy his company. Is that really such a crime?"

"You have a lot in _common?_" Severus echoed incredulously. "What common ground could you possibly share with _Harry __bloody __Potter?__"_

Draco looked as if he were fighting a losing internal struggle by the fire in his eyes, as he sat there seemingly frozen. Finally his eyes narrowed, his chin tipped up and he sat back in his chair. "Can I trust you not to repeat what I'm going to tell you, to my father?"

Now this caught Severus' attention. He cocked a single brow, obviously expecting some elaboration on that request.

"You've done it before," Draco went on, looking away again. "You've protected me and kept things from him when you knew that it would only bring about suffering if he were to know. Can I trust you to do that now? Will you put me over him? Or will you just go running to him to reveal what I say the moment I'm gone?" Finally Draco turned his piercing eyes back on Severus and waited.

Those eyes were demanding, but there was also a hint of the scared, little boy who used to hide behind his robes at the at the galas and the parties, in an attempt to vanish and not risk doing something wrong that would incur his father's _disappointment_.

"I will hold whatever you tell me in the strictest of confidences," Severus finally said solemnly.

Draco remained motionless for a moment longer, continuing to peer into Severus' black eyes as if searching for any sign of deception. Finally he gave the slightest inclination of his head.

"Did you read Skeeter's article in the Prophet on Harry?"

Severus snorted derisively. "I did not have time to indulge in such drivel."

Draco huffed and barely restrained from rolling his eyes. "Fine, whatever. You've heard that Harry's a quarter Veela, though – right?"

This did spark Severus' interest. He'd heard rumors, but there really was no telling what was fact and what was not.

"I am aware that Potter's mother was half-veela," Severus conceded with a small nod of his head.

"Well, Harry's one too, obviously," Draco _did_ roll his eyes this time. "He's been living with his Veela family for two whole summers, so he's been preparing and practicing everything."

Severus gave a small pained sigh as if he were already growing bored and uninterested in all of this. He made a motion with his hand as if to suggest Draco speed things up. Draco glared at him lightly.

"You're aware that my father is one-eighth veela," Draco said, and it was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," Severus said slowly as a few dots began to connect in his mind.

"Well, while my father's veela traits may be recessive... mine are not. This isn't exactly news to my family either – Father spent most of the summer after I turned eight training me to control my veela fire powers so I'd stop accidentally setting things on fire, and he made it perfectly clear that use of those powers was the utmost shame, and as such, I should do everything in my power to hide them. Father _knows_ that I showed signs from a young age of being actively Veela, and if he'd done even the slightest bit of research he should have known what that would mean, but it seems he's either forgotten, or is simply keeping himself willfully ignorant. The fact is that I'm Veela, and when I hit my physical maturity, whether I want these powers or not, they will come into full effect and my allure will activate. Without proper training or preparation, this would be disastrous. Don't you agree?"

Severus found that his lips were parted slightly in as close to a gape as he'd ever really allow himself to show and he quickly pressed his lips together again.

He closed his eyes and a pained expression passed over his features as he gathered the courage to proceed. "Your father asked that I brew a potion before next summer, and he intended to use it as part of a ritual that would... _cleanse_ you of the... supposed _taint_, in your blood. He first mentioned it to me two summers ago, but sent me a reminder this last summer. Some of the ingredients are very hard to come by, and there are others that are illegal, and are not permitted to be imported into the country. He was letting me know which he'd managed to come across, and what suppliers he thought were trustworthy for the others."

Draco looked more pale and horrified than Severus had ever seen him before, and his jaw was openly gaping.

"You would really have done this?" he whispered, sounding truly horrified and disgusted.

"I had not agreed yet," Severus said, looking away. "I told him I would not do it unless you consented. He insisted that you would have no problem with agreeing to the procedure. He insinuated that he had already discussed it with you and that you _wanted_ it done."

"Well he was _lying!_" Draco hissed angrily.

"Clearly," Severus said dryly.

"I won't stand for it. I wont!" Draco yelled, firmly.

"And so I won't brew it," Severus said simply.

This seemed to take out some of Draco's fire and he sat back in his chair again.

"So... you and Potter share your... _veela_ heritage as a common ground?" Severus drawled derisively after a moment of heavy silence had passed.

"I could smell it on him at the start of last year," Draco mumbled into his hand. He had his elbow on the chair's armrest, and his hand up propping up his chin.

"You could... _smell_ it on him?" Severus echoed with mild incredulity.

Draco nodded. "He could smell it on me too, apparently. After I first noticed it, it was like some sort of switch just flipped in my head, and I couldn't antagonize him anymore. I even tried. I tried to pretend that nothing had changed, and he was still nothing more than stupid 'Scarhead' that I'd always fought with, but I just couldn't do it. I'd go to open my mouth and something inside would just... it's like something would twist up something awful, and I just had to walk away. So... so I basically avoided him like the plague all last year. And... and part of me _knew_ it had to do with the whole Veela thing. That it was some sort of _animal __instinct_, and that was just horrifying. But at the end of the year we had this sort of ordeal, I suppose, and afterwards he came and visited me in the hospital wing and we got to talking.

"He gave me a lot to think about – about the whole Veela thing, I mean. Father... well, he'd really rather succeeded in making me entirely ashamed of what I am. I probably _would_ have undergone whatever wretched ritual he's got planned, if it weren't for my talk with Harry. But it's not something I'm ashamed of now. I'm _proud_ of it, and it makes me stronger, not a freak. Father's a fool, and I won't give up my _gift_ just because he's jealous or insecure or whatever."

Severus sat back and mulled over Draco's words for a few minutes. He'd said a lot, and there was quite a lot that could be read beneath the surface, as well.

"It's rather curious..." Severus began slowly and thoughtfully, "that you found yourself unable to antagonize Potter after you had... _smelled_ him."

Draco frowned slightly but shrugged. "Like I said, I figured it must be some sort of veela instinct. Some part that didn't want to make enemies of the only other veela around."

"I've never heard of a reaction quite like that casually happening between any and all veela who encounter each other," Severus said pointedly. "Have you interacted any with the Delecour girl from Beauxbatons? She's one-quarter veela."

Draco shook his head. "No. But I don't want it getting around the school or the press yet that I'm veela. She'd be able to smell it on me, and I don't know her enough to trust her."

Severus gave a conceded nod of his head.

The office settled into a thick silence after that for several minutes. Finally, it was broken by Draco.

"His friendship has come to mean a lot to me," he said in a quiet, vulnerable voice. "I know you don't like him –"

Severus snorted.

"– but I suspect that has more to do with you just never having given him a chance," Draco pressed on, glaring slightly at his godfather. "I don't know anything about James Potter – not really – and I won't presume to understand what happened between you and him, but it doesn't make sense to me how Harry could possibly be anything like his father when he doesn't even remember him, and grew up in a completely different environment. He's not arrogant or spoiled at all. He had an awful childhood, and he's self-conscious and insecure, but hides it behind a mask... just like me. I hide it behind a sneer, and he hides behind a smile and tells everyone he's fine, even when he's not. He's..."

Draco trailed off and Severus noticed the faintest hint of a pink flush on the boy's pale cheeks. His eyes narrowed further as his mind began connecting different dots and possibilities. He dismissed most of them as ridiculous, or at least, unlikely. He would need to observe longer and gather more information before he could say anything for sure...

"Anyway, he's important to me. He's opened my eyes to things that I hadn't been able to see before, and I feel happier with who I am now than I can ever remember feeling before. That was _Harry_ that did that. I feel like I have to try and protect him, but now he's being sucked into this monstrous tournament and I've felt helpless to do anything until now. He has to face a bloody _dragon_, and the best option to getting him through it without getting his hide burned off, is to knock the damn thing out before he has to get too close. To do that, I need pixie dust. So will you do it? I already told you I'd pay for it."

Severus scrutinized his godson for a moment longer before letting out a small sigh and nodding his head. "I will. But I'm doing it for you. Not for Potter."

– –

"Dragons?" Hermione yelped in a panicked voice.

"Shh!" Harry hushed her and looked around for any sign that the librarian, Pince was about to swoop down on them. "Yes, dragons."

"Oh my god, Harry! What are you going to do!" she moaned. She looked horrified and panicked for all of one second before determination flashed in her eyes. "I'll start looking in the books. I'll find every book this library has on dragons and we will find a way for you to make it out of this!"

"Well, actually, I think I might already have a plan – or, at least, the beginnings of one," Harry said, stopping her mid-stride as she was already starting to leave the table in search of books. She paused and looked at him with curiosity and surprise.

"A plan? What is it?"

"Pixie dust."

"Pixie dust?" she echoed incredulously. Harry grinned.

"Yeah. Apparently, it knocks them out cold." She looked skeptical and Harry went on to explain what Draco had explained to him about pixies defending their stolen golden trinkets and such.

She blinked. "And Malfoy told you about this?"

"Yeah, he was really into dragons as a kid," Harry said, ducking his head and grinning. The thought of Draco having a huge collection of dragon figures as a child somehow amused and warmed him at the same time. He shook his head slightly to clear his mind of the random distraction and pressed on. "So anyway, you can still help me out with searching the books. We know that pixie dust can knock out a dragon, but somehow I've got to get it to breath in the stuff first, and I'd rather not have to get close enough to toss the bag in it's face. I need some sort of spell that will send the dust in the dragon's face."

Hermione got a determined look on her face and nodded her head. "Right. You got it. Let's get searching."

It was nearly an hour and a half later when Draco came into the library looking around for any sign of Harry. He found Harry and Hermione at a table in the back surrounded by several stacks of books and scattered bits of loose parchment with notes scribbled about. Harry's head popped up and turned to see Draco approaching from behind. A look of worry and apprehension was on his face for half a second before Draco grinned and held up a draw-string bag in one hand.

A huge relieved smile spread across Harry's face and he quickly pulled the empty chair beside him out and Draco accepted it wordlessly.

"So you got it?" Harry asked.

Draco grinned smugly and tipped his chin up somewhat imperiously. "Of course," he drawled, but he looked back down at Harry a moment later and his smirk became a real smile.

"Oh, thank you so much, Draco! I don't know what I'd be doing right now if it weren't for you – well, yes, I probably do; I'd be researching dragons and pulling my hair out and freaking out."

"I rather doubt that would have gotten you very far. The texts on Dragons in the school library are rather pathetic, really."

"I've been meaning to ask you about that, Malfoy," Hermione said as she pulled her head out from the book she'd been buried in. "I've looked through a few books and haven't seen anything mention pixie dust having that effect on dragons."

"It's not a well known fact, but it _is_ true. My father took me to a dragon reserve when I was nine and I saw it in use there, not to mention that it's detailed in several books I have back at home," Draco drawled confidently.

"But you're really sure this will work?" Hermione asked with worried skepticism.

"Do you honestly think I'd send Harry out there with nothing more than a bag of dust if I wasn't sure?" Draco asked, incensed.

Hermione looked a bit conflicted for a moment before becoming thoughtful and giving Harry and Draco a rather odd _look_. Finally she sighed and shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. I'm just terribly worried. This is absolutely insane. _Dragons! _How could anyone think that this was an acceptable idea?"

"The sort of idiot fools that we have running our Ministry are just the sort to look at this big mess and think, _gee, __that __sounds __like __a __brilliant __way __to __round __up __favor __and __gain __attention._ It's just the sort of dramatic, illogical nonsense, they do all the time to try and cover up the fact that their incompetent and can't do their jobs," Draco sneered.

Hermione frowned, and looked conflicted. Just the same, she didn't appear inclined to argue the point.

"So I assume you two have been looking into spells to use to get the dust to the dragons?" Draco said, looking at a few of the books scattered across the table and pulling one to him.

"We've found a few potential charms, but none of them really have very high accuracy," Hermione responded, slipping effortlessly into her serious research mode. "And since I can't find anything that specifically mentioned that dragons are knocked unconscious by pixie dust, I don't know how much of it is necessary to achieve the job."

"It just need one good solid inhale of the stuff and it should be knocked right out," Draco replied. "Obviously, one bag can only go so far. Harry will have a few shots, if he misses the first couple times, but there's not a lot of room for error."

"We need a backup plan in case something goes wrong with the dust," Hermione said.

Harry just sat there and watched while his two most reliable friends sat there across from each other at a table in the library, hammering out the details of how to keep him from dying in two days, and not even so much as remarking on the fact that less than one year prior the two would have never stepped within two feet of each other without insults being thrown.

A small smile started to spread across his lips and a feeling of warmth filled his chest. They were doing this for him. They both cared about him and wanted to try and help him. They were both _his_ friends, and because of that, they were sitting there at a table and not even seeming to give a second thought to the biases and painful bullying of the past.

How had Draco Malfoy come to change so much? He'd gone from being the bully that made Harry's life miserable, to being one of the most important friends he had. Sure, their active friendship hadn't really been around all that long, but Draco had stepped up when it was important. He'd come to stand by Harry's side when no one but Hermione was willing to do so. Even when Harry's supposed 'best mate' had abandoned him, his old rival and one-time enemy, had come to his side and declared himself Harry Potter's friend and ally, rather publicly, if quietly.

There had never been any active attempt to hide their friendship. And Harry knew that Draco secretly feared how his father would react when he fully became aware that his son had opted to befriend the boy almost singularly held responsible for the downfall of Lucius' Lord and master. But it was never really brought up to Harry. Draco made like it wasn't a real concern, and he valued Harry's friendship over whatever reaction there might be from his father.

After another hour of research and collecting potential spells, the three headed out to find an empty classroom and began target practice, using a bag of fine sand taken from the shore of the Black Lake to practice the chosen spell for 'loading' a small mass of sand or dust into a ball, attached to the tip of his wand, before activating the spell that would send it flying.

They set up several targets and tried out all of the different spells they'd found to determine what would actually be the most successful. Harry also practiced some summoning spells just to make sure he could really pull it off. It was decided that Draco would carry the bag with him so that it would be near by when Harry needed to summon it.

"But won't it be obvious that you knew about the dragon before hand?" Hermione had worried at one point. "It's not like a person would normally have a bag of pixie dust just sitting about on hand."

"It's not like I'm the only one who knows, though," Harry argued. "Not only was Madame Maxime there that night, but I saw Karkaroff in the forest making his way towards the dragons when I was leaving. There's no doubt that they've warned Fleur and Krum by now. Fleur looked rather sick this morning at breakfast, actually, so I'm pretty sure she knows."

"What about Cedric?" Hermione worried suddenly. "Do you think Hagrid would have warned him too?"

Harry frowned and shook his head. "I don't know. But I don't think he has." He paused in thought. "I'm going to warn him," he finally said with a determined nod.

"You're going to warn your competition?" Draco asked almost incredulously.

"Of course! It's only fair. The rest of us know, he should too."

Draco chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Ah yes. _Fair_. I mustn't forget I'm working with _Gryffindors_ here. We mustn't allow you to actually have an _advantage_ over someone. Fine, fine. Go warn the Hufflepuff."

The following day, Harry closely watched Cedric as he ate his breakfast. It was Monday morning and there were classes that day, so his window of opportunity would be slim. As soon as Diggory got up to leave, Harry grabbed his bag and stood up as well. He followed him out into the hall, but Diggory wasn't alone – his friends were all waking with him and talking excitedly, and Harry wondered how he was going to get the other boy alone.

Finally, he just decided for the direct approach and called out. Diggory slowed to a stop and looked over at Harry curiously. Harry jogged to catch up and quietly asked Cedric if he could speak to him alone for a minute. Diggory nodded to his friends, telling them he'd catch up, and then the pair slipped off into an alcove.

"Dragons," Harry said in a quiet voice.

"Huh?"

"The first task. It's dragons. They've got four of them out in the forest right now. One for each of us."

Diggory's eyes went wide and his face paled considerably.

"Are you sure?" he whispered in horror. Harry nodded his head.

"Madame Maxime and Karkaroff were both out there, so I know they've warned Fleur and Krum by now. With the three of us knowing, it was only fair that you knew too."

Diggory nodded rather numbly. "Yeah... thanks. Thanks, Harry. I mean that."

The two parted ways and Harry had just turned to leave when he came abruptly face-to-face with Mad-Eye Moody. The scarred and mangled old man looked down his gnarled, broken nose at Harry with a knowing smirk.

Moody pulled him back into the alcove and, despite Harry's sudden fears, did not reprimand Harry for seemingly 'cheated' somehow to find out what the first task was. Instead he took a few moments to try and give Harry some advice. Basically amounting to 'do what he already knew he was good at', and pointing out his success with quidditch, and skill with a broom.

–

"I think I have a back-up plan," Harry said hesitantly as he sat down next to Draco later that day in Potions.

"Oh?" Draco asked, perking up with interest.

"Well, Moody sort of hinted-slash-suggested I stick with what I know, and basically alluded to me just using my broom. So... push come to shove, I could summon my broom and try to out-fly the thing. I'd just transform and try to outfly it on my own, but I'd rather not reveal my transformed state in front of all those people if I can help it."

Draco looked speculative, but slowly nodded his head. "It's a valid back-up plan at least. You could even combine plans. Summon the pixie dust _and_ your broom. Get on the broom and use the height and maneuverability to your advantage when trying to shoot the dust at the dragon."

Harry's eyes lit up and he grinned. "Yeah! That's brilliant. It'd probably be loads easier to dodge the dragon's fire if I'm on my broom."

Draco grinned before pausing and frowning slightly in thought. "So... _Moody_ really suggested this? How'd that happen?"

"He caught me telling Diggory that the first task is dragons. I was so afraid that I was somehow going to get in trouble for knowing, but instead he just made some remark on how this tournament has always been rife with cheating, and in the end, it usually comes down to who cheats the most successfully or something," Harry ended with an annoyed scowl.

Draco snorted and shrugged. "That's pretty much true."

About thirty minutes into the class passed and Draco had to reach over for the third time to stop Harry from putting the wrong thing in the cauldron. "Harry; seriously – just stop. You just sit there. I'd rather not end up in the hospital wing today because your nerves landed us with an exploded cauldron."

Harry groaned miserably. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm just freaking out. Can we practice some more this afternoon? My aim is still awful."

"Of course. I was already planning on it," Draco said with casual dismissal as he sprinkled in powdered bicorn horn into the cauldron in an anti-clockwise shape.

Harry heaved a sigh and slumped back onto his stool some. "I'm seriously freaking out here. This time tomorrow, I'm going to be preparing to face an enormous fire-breathing beast. This cannot seriously be happening."

Draco paused from his work on the potion and turned to look right at Harry in the eye. There was legitimate worry in those eyes. Draco pulled in a slow breath before letting it back out. His hand raised from the table and hesitated in the air for a moment and Harry noticed it shake the tiniest bit for a moment before it moved onward and gently came to rest on Harry's thigh where he gave a gentle squeeze.

Harry's breath caught in his throat and he felt his heart rate increase suddenly. The spot on his thigh where Draco's hand had come to rest felt so _warm_ and... and... sort of _tingly_. It felt _nice_. Harry suddenly felt the most irrationally strong urge to reach out and take Draco's hand in his and lace their fingers together. Or maybe to place his hand over top of Draco's... yes, that would be better. That way his hand still stayed on Harry's leg, and that was nice. It was warm, and soft, and reassuring, and _calming_... but also exciting, which was entirely contradictory.

"You're going to survive this," Draco said suddenly with determined conviction, pulling Harry out of his sudden freak-out. "You've survived the Dark Lord like... three times now? A giant basilisk, a werewolf, a three-headed dog, and all sort so idiotic nonsense. If anyone can survive a dragon, it's you. Besides, if you get yourself maimed by a dragon tomorrow, I'll never forgive you, do you understand me, Potter?"

Harry gaped for a few seconds before a small smile spread across his face and he gave Draco a soft nod.

Draco responded with a firm jerk of his head and then turned back to the potion, removing his hand from Harry's leg and leaving him with a sudden feeling of loss. Harry swallowed back the whimper of disappointment and after a minute had passed, he gently ran his hand over his thigh where Draco's hand had been, trying to bring back some of the warmth, or at least reduce the contrast in temperature that he could still sense there.

The rest of the class went by without anything noteworthy happening, and Harry felt decidedly disappointed when he and Draco had to part ways in order to go to their next classes.

– –

The following morning McGonagall appeared while Harry was not-eating his breakfast and led him out, onto the grounds, and into a tent where he found the other three Champions already gathered. Fleur looked like she was going to be sick. Diggory wasn't much better. Krum was stone-faced and pale.

Harry ended up going over to Fleur and striking up some sort of pathetic semblance of a conversation that neither of them really cared about. Finally, Harry leaned in close and spoke in fast, quiet, French about the dragons. She was only mildly surprised that Harry knew about them already, and noted she was relieved that he'd known and had at least a little time to prepare.

A few moments later Harry's peripheral vision caught someone entering the tent. He turned and found his grandfather standing there looking worried beyond words. Harry rushed over and hugged the man, holding on tighter than he probably should, but he honestly couldn't hold himself back. Besides, Lucas was holding him just as tightly.

"This is madness," Luc whispered fiercely. "Madness. _Dragons!_ Harry, it's _dragons!__"_

"I know," Harry whispered back, his face still buried in his grandfather's shoulder. "I found out a few days ago."

"You did? Why didn't you tell me!"

"I..." Harry's voice trailed off as several figures appeared through the entrance to the large tent.

Ludo Bagman, Crouch, Dumbledore, Maxime, and Karkaroff entered the tent and called the four champions forward. Bagman eyed Harry's grandfather hesitantly, and Lucas glared right back, as if daring him to protest his presence there.

Bagman was the one to do all the talking and quickly got things started. He explained that their task was to collect a golden egg that was placed in a nest of _real_ eggs on the other side of the task enclosure. Between the start and the nest, was a nesting mother dragon that they had to get past.

Points would be awarded for the best time, and the most creative and effective solutions. Points would be deducted should any of the dragon's actual eggs come to harm, and should be contestants themselves get injured.

Bagman produced a large leather pouch that was squirming slightly and the champions were instructed to reach inside and draw out one of what was inside. Each of the champions reached in, one at a time, and drew out a small, animated dragon. Each dragon had a number around its neck, denoting which order they would be going out to attempt their task, and the dragon figurines themselves, denoting which of the four dragon breeds they would personally have to tackle.

Harry ended up with the Hungarian Horntail with a number 4 around its neck, meaning he got the nastiest of the four breeds, and had to wait till the end to face it. He swallowed the horrid lump of dread in his throat and went to sit down and await his fate.

Lucas joined him, of course, and the two began to furiously whisper in French. Harry apologized for not telling his grandfather, but he'd been so busy with trying to prepare for the task, it had just slipped his mind. Part of him had assumed that his grandfather might have known about the dragons on his own anyway, just because he was sticking his nose into so much of this tournament nonsense, but he realized that was naïve. Obviously if his grandfather had known, he'd have told Harry right away.

He felt guilty for that, but honestly, it would have just given his grandfather something more to worry about, and it's not like there was anything they could do to get out of it.

Lucas brushed it all aside and focused instead on Harry's plan for tackling the beast. He was relieved and wholeheartedly approved of the pixie dust. He told Harry that his friend Draco was quite clever to think of it, as it was something many people overlooked.

Sitting in that tent was hell, even with his grandfather for company and moral support. He couldn't see what was going on outside, but he could still hear Bagman as he commentated on everything that happened. It felt like an eternity had passed before the other three champions had all taken their turns with their respective beasts and Harry was called out to face the inevitable.

He got one last almost excruciatingly tight hug from his grandfather before turning around resolutely, and leaving the safety of the champion's tent.

Harry stepped out into the rocky arena surrounded by tall rock walls with the spectator stands high above. At first, there was no obvious sign of the dragon, but he could smell the beast's deep smokey musk nearby, and could hear the low rumbling of it's growls, despite the roar of the crowd.

Deciding not to waste any time, he drew his wand and quickly summoned the bag of pixie dust, and his firebolt. The firebolt was coming all the way form the castle – although he had left it propped up by his open tower window – but the bag of dust was rather close by so it flew through the air and into his hand rather quickly. Relief washed through him as he held onto the sturdy leather pouch and began to cautiously traverse the rocky terrain. He hooked the pouch onto his belt and reached in to grasp his first handful of the pixie dust in preparation. He came inching around a large rough bolder and heard the shrill gasp of the crowd just as a burst of flame shot past him and he ducked back in, gasping in shock.

The Horntail roared in defensive anger and Harry had to close his eyes for a moment to push down the urge to scream and panic. He simply couldn't afford it at this point.

Suddenly, his broom sailed over the top of the large enclosed arena and into his hand that reached out for it more on instinct than anything else. The dragon roared again and another burst of flames shot over the top of the rock he was using for cover. Harry mounted the broom and kicked off into the air a few feet off the ground, but still behind the boulder. He held onto the broom with his thighs held out his left hand full of the dust and pointed his wand into it. Muttering the spell quietly under his breath, the dust became a small swirling ball floating mid-air an inch from the tip of his wand and remaining magically anchored there even as he moved his wand. He slowly guided the broom upwards and took aim but had to pull the broom suddenly to the side to dodge another ball of angry flames.

As he strafed to the side mid-air, he aimed his wand and shot out the first blast of pixie dust. It would have hit the horntail right in the face if it weren't for the fact that the beast shot another burst of flames into the air just as the dust sailed towards it, incinerating the cloud.

Harry quickly flew further to the side, finding another rocky outcropping to hide behind and readied the second handful of pixie dust.

The Horntail bellowed out a furious roar and Harry could feel the ground shake and shudder beneath it's feet as it fought against the chains binding it to the ground. He made two more attempts at sending out shots of pixie dust, but both were countered with flames in the same was as the first and Harry was beginning to get desperate. He wasn't out of dust yet, but he was lower than he'd like.

Harry readied another ball of dust on the end of his wand, secured his grip on the broom with his legs. He held his left hand palm-up and summoned his own fire there, while still holding his wand in his right with the ball of dust magically secured to the tip. He gave his flames form and shape, creating the fire leviathan that he'd demonstrated to Draco the previous spring. He willed it to start swirling and coiling around through the air for a moment before sending it up and out, directly towards the dragon.

Obviously, fire wasn't going to hurt a _dragon, _but it was serving as a brilliant distraction. The horntail snarled and snapped it's jaws at the blue flame-formed serpent, sending out blasts of her own fire that proved ineffective. All the while, Harry subtly flew to the right, just outside the dragon's peripheral vision, aimed his blast of pixie dust. He saw his chance and shot it out from his wand.

Just as the horntail was snapping it's jaws angrily at the flame-serpent, the ball of pixie dust exploded in it's face and open jaws. The dragon coughed and made a sneezing sort of sound, accompanied by flames, sparks, and lots of angry snarling. But then it's eyes began to droop, and it's legs began to wobble and give out. She turned her head, sending out a flaming jet of red and orange and a bit of blue in a wide arc all around, and Harry had to duck behind another bolder to steer clear.

A great thundering _lump_ echoed through the arena and then... silence.

Harry hesitantly pulled out from behind his cover and spotted the dragon, collapsed on the ground, totally unconscious.

The crowd roared.

Harry wasted little time after that flying over to the opposite end of the arena, swooping down to scoop up the egg, careful not to disturb the real eggs that accompanied it, and then flew back to the entrance that he'd originally come from. He kept his eyes trained on the dragon the whole time, as he really wasn't sure just how long the damn thing would stay down. Fortunately it didn't so much as stir the entire time, and it was an exhausted and thoroughly relieved Harry Potter that ran into the tent shortly there after, right into the open arms of his grandfather.

"Oh, Harry! Thank the gods you're alright. That was brilliant Harry. You did so well," Lucas was saying while Harry just hung on to him.

Finally he pulled back and looked up at his grandfather who was beaming down at him with pride and relief. Harry smiled up at him, finally beginning to feel that wonderful relief at knowing he had survived one third of this awful tournament without injury.

"HARRY!" dual voices called out from somewhere behind and Harry turned to see Hermione and Draco both slipping in from beneath the flap of the tent and racing over. Lucas released him and Harry turned around just in time to be barreled into by Hermione who was practically sobbing with relief.

"I was so scared, Harry! I cannot believe how huge that thing was! Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed.

"I'm okay, Hermione. I'm okay," Harry said with a weak laugh. His head turned away from her bushy hair and his eyes connected with Draco's. The blond was standing a foot away and fidgeting slightly as if he wanted to be the one with Harry, and reassuring himself that the raven-haired Gryffindor really was alright, but couldn't quite bring himself to do so.

Harry smiled warmly and gratefully at Draco, and the blond blinked.

'Thank you,' Harry mouthed to Draco who seemed to flush slightly and nearly ducked his head bashfully before he caught himself and tipped his chin up haughtily instead. Harry grinned.

Suddenly a bright flash went off and Harry and Hermione pulled apart and looked over in shock as Rita Skeeter seemed to come out of nowhere, grinning greedily with her photographer Bozo and his smoking camera by her side.

"Now look here, you!" Lucas growled as he stormed over and began to bicker with the reporter. Harry just heaved a sigh and turned away from the scene, deciding that he really didn't want to deal with it at that moment and would rather focus on his friends. He looked back at Draco who was watching his grandfather and the reporter with a look of amusement on his face. He realized Harry was looking at him and his silver-gray eyes turned back and connected with Harry's once again.

That warm rush seemed to shoot through Harry again before settling in the pit of his chest and maybe just the tiniest bit in his groin, making him flush with embarrassment, but he pushed it away and grinned. Draco grinned back, but his looked very much relieved as well.

"So you didn't die," he said.

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Didn't feel like dying today."

"Good. I didn't feel like watching you die today, either. Besides, it would have been an incredible waste of my precious time and efforts, to go to all that trouble to get the pixie dust and help you with your pathetic aim, if you'd gone and gotten eaten by the ruddy beast. I never would have forgiven you if you'd gone and done something stupid like getting mortally wounded. How would you ever repay me, then?"

"Glad to know you care," Harry replied with amused sarcasm.

Just then the tent got a whole lot more crowded as the other three champions returned – both Fleur and Cedric had ended up in the medical tent afterwards to treat minor burns – along with the judges. Bagman began to excitedly call everyone together. Skeeter and her photographer were given the boot and Lucas took up post by the entry flap with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring out over the Ministry people and the headmaster.

Dumbledore spotted Draco and Hermione and asked them what they were doing there, causing Hermione to flush and stutter before rushing out, and Draco to just bow his head ever so slightly and turn to leave as well.

Finally, Bagman congratulated the four champions for each successfully claiming their eggs, and reading off their respective scores.

Harry was stunned to learn he was in the lead. He hadn't sustained any injuries, he'd gotten the whole thing done quickly, and he hadn't damaged any of the eggs. Cedric had been a little bit faster, but he'd gotten hurt in the process. Fleur had taken the longest _and_ gotten hurt, and while Krum hadn't gotten hurt, and had done it in nearly the same time as Harry, but he'd managed to spook his dragon enough that she ended up crushing some of her own eggs and costing him quite a few points.

Bagman then went on to direct their attention to the golden eggs that they'd recovered and Harry realized that he'd almost completely forgotten about it in his immense relieve in having survived. They were told that the eggs they collected held a secret clue that they would need to decipher before the next task, that wouldn't be held until the late February.

The knowledge that he had _months_ before he next had to face death head-on was both a relief and a heavy weight in the back of his mind. But for now, it was over and he wanted nothing more than to get some rest and relax.

The crowd in the tent dispersed and Harry spoke briefly with his grandfather again. It was his grandfather who suggested they take a look at the egg right that moment, since he had literally decades of experience on his grandson and might have some insight that he wouldn't be able to share properly if he weren't there in person.

Huddled together, alone in the tent, Harry twisted the top and released the latch that held the egg closed. The horrid awful screaming that emerged from within urged him to instantly shut it again. Harry blinked owlishly for a moment before looking back down at the egg as if it were tainted with some awful evil.

"Oh, that's clever," Lucas remarked with a chuckle. Harry looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Clever?"

"That's mermish."

"_Mermish?_ But I don't speak mermish! Do we have a spell to learn that?"

"Well, actually we do, but chances are you don't actually need it to understand the clue. Just take that egg under water and listen to it then. It's probably charmed to automatically translate once submerged."

"Oh... so... I take it under water?"

"Yes. That's my guess anyway. You give it a try as soon as you can manage and get back to me with what it says. Okay?"

"Okay, I'll do that. Thanks papy."

Parting words were shared and Harry finally vacated the tent. There were still students and spectators mulling around the grounds and Harry attempted to dodge them all while rushing back to the castle.

Classes had been canceled for the day, which Harry was very grateful for. He made his way up to Gryffindor Tower, looking forward to a well deserved rest, but it was obviously a pipe dream because the moment he entered the common room, it _roared_ to life with cheers, whistles, and general calls of celebration. There were banners, and streamers and magical confetti everywhere. Somehow someone had gotten food and drinks set up and a regular party was clearly in full swing. Harry just gaped at it for a moment until he was swarmed by congratulations and general exclamations of how awesome they'd found his performance.

Harry was fully prepared to bite off the head of the next person who mobbed him, up until the moment that next person turned out to be Hermione. He had thought she'd gotten all of her hugging done and over with in the tent, but after a moment he caught on to the fact that she was using it as a way to lead him _away_ from the mob and gratefully accepted her assistance.

A few people called out for Harry to try opening the egg, but he pretended to not hear them and instead allowed Hermione to guide him to the stairs with promises of his return after cleaning up. The din of the common room was still quite audible when they reached the top of the stairs, but once they'd entered his dorm room and closed the door the sound was finally drowned out and Harry felt like he could actually _breath_.

That is, until he turned around and found Ron Weasley standing there at the foot of his bed, beet red and head ducked.

Harry felt himself freeze. He didn't know what to expect or how to react, so instead he simply did nothing, and just waited.

Finally Ron looked up and his face was no longer red, but instead pale white, and he looked as if he were on the brink of fainting.

"Harry..." he began in a hesitant, but serious tone, "I reckon that whoever put your name in that Goblet is out to do you in."

Harry felt torn between openly gaping, or screaming rather profanely.

"Caught on, have you?" he said instead in a rather cold voice.

Ron ducked his head again, looking miserable and ill.

"Look mate, I... I was a right git. I –"

"Just leave it," Harry said with a tired, frustrated sigh. "Just forget it."

"But, I –"

"Just _forget __it.__"_ Harry said more sternly. He couldn't deal with this right now. He wasn't honestly sure he was ready to forgive Ron, even if the git had finally decided to apologize, but at the same time, he was more than willing to welcome the end to the animosity that had existed between them these last few weeks.

Ron looked hesitant and unsure for a moment before a bright, relieved smile spread across his face and he nodded, apparently having assumed that all was forgiven.

"You were brilliant, mate! And did you see the scores? You got the best marks! You were definitely the best one, too. Cedric did this thing where he transfigured a rock into a dog and tried to get the dragon to go after the dog, instead of him. And it worked for a while, but about half way through the dragon realized it wanted him more than the Labrador, and he ended up getting burned. That Fleur girl looked like she was trying to charm the dragon or something because it got all sleepy, but it started sort of burping out smoke and fire and her dress caught on fire. She put it out with some water from her wand though, but she took forever inching around the dragon. Guess she was afraid she'd wake it up or something. Krum was pretty brilliant too. He didn't even try to fly like you did. He sent some sort of spell right at his dragon's eyes, but it started thrashing around and making a ruckus and ended up smashing it's own eggs – he lost points for that."

Harry nodded his head rather numbly while his old friend rambled on with obvious excitement, as if nothing had ever happened between them in the first place. Harry just sighed and took it all in stride while he made his way over to his bed and sat down. Hermione seemed to huff out an exasperated sort of noise, and muttered _'Boys,'_ under her breath, but gave the two of them a small smile before leaving them to their own devices.

o - o - o

* * *

AN: When I got to write the part where Ron 'apologized', I found I couldn't quite remember how the hell it went in cannon, so I went back and re-read that part from GoF. Harry literally just said 'Forget it!' and it was done. *rolls eyes*

The difference here is that Harry hasn't actually forgiven Ron, he's just tired of fighting. In cannon, Harry had been utterly miserable and alone the last month without Ron, and was so damned relieved for his friend to have come to his senses, that all was forgiven, just like that. Not quite so easy here, as Ron will eventually come to find.


	10. When Someone Elses Secret is Revealed

AN: So I keep getting little reviews and comments, etc. related to the dominant vs submissive positions, and about mates and such, and I shouldn't be surprised because, honestly, that's one of those staples of the Veela genre. Veela fics usually have very obviously defined roles in them. I've intentionally been avoiding such cliches as much as possible in this fic. I'm sort of aiming for a more 'normal' relationship, instead of all the crazy 'destined mates' with instinctively driven and predetermined roles. I think the removal of freewill to such an extent would unsettle Draco, seeing as how, deep-down, he's still a bit uncomfortable with the idea of being 'less than human'. Just the same, there IS going to be some level of instinct drive that is going to rear it's head in the near future.

I've also had several people ask who will end up being the 'top' and who will end up being the 'bottom', and in all honestly, I'm not even sure yet. I keep vacillating between the two – lol. More likely, however, is that neither will take a totally designated role right away. But just because I'll probably keep getting asked, I'm leaning more towards bottom!Harry. There - I answered the question.

In any case, I can't say for sure how soon any of this will important, since I don't intend for the pair of them to just jump into bed with each other any time soon.

Oh, and a warning - this chapter contains what I consider 'a very tame scene' that still technically warranted me switching the rating from T to M. It involves masturbation. Consider yourself forewarned.

o – o – o

**Chapter 10** – When Someone Else's Secret is Revealed and A New Dawn Rises

The following day was Wednesday and Harry found himself eager to get to Runes and see Draco. The previous evening he had eventually been dragged back down into the Gryffindor common room and made to participate in the 'celebration' over his win, and in the end Harry had felt entirely overloaded on being social with people he didn't really care much about. So when he'd finally been able to go to bed, he'd practically collapsed in exhaustion. But now it was the following day and Harry was looking forward to seeing Draco again. Runes had somehow become one of his favorite classes – what with both Hermione and Draco being in it, as well as the fact that he rather excelled at the subject.

Blaise, and surprisingly enough, Parkinson, both congratulated him on his performance the previous day, although Harry wondered if Blaise was doing it just to suck up since less than a minute after giving his praise, Zabini was asking Harry to help him out with preparing for their Runes exam the following week. Harry rolled his eyes, but found himself more amused than annoyed and agreed to a joint study session in the library for the coming weekend.

Draco asked if he could join them and Harry had been mildly bewildered that he thought it was necessary to even ask, as to him it seemed a given. He said as much as well, and then asked Hermione if she'd be coming as well. She hesitated, looking at the others – and especially Parkinson – for a moment before shrugging and agreeing. Draco gave a look at Parkinson that was both questioning and pointed. The girl looked conflicted but gave a sigh that made it seem as if she was being entirely put upon before stating that she'd come as well in a rather imperious drawl.

Harry looked over at Hermione who looked back, raising her eyebrows slightly with mild incredulity. Harry just shrugged and grinned slightly.

–

The whole school seemed to have warmed up to Harry since the task – well, not the _whole_ school. The Hufflepuffs were still a bit cold-shouldered towards him, but he really couldn't blame them for feeling like he was stealing the fire out from under their champion. Just the same – it was hardly _his_ fault that he'd been forced into the tournament.

The first bit of trouble came Thursday morning when Rita Skeeter posted an article in Witch Weekly that was supposedly about the task, but ended up being more of an expose on Harry's supposed love life. As It had already been publicly insinuated that Harry and Hermione were a couple, he probably could have just grumbled and ignored the whole thing, except for the fact that now Rita was insinuating that Hermione was toying with Harry's affections by cheating on him with Viktor Krum. Harry didn't even know where _that_ had come from, and Hermione had looked both greatly annoyed and mildly horrified.

Ron had been freaked out for all of one second before he laughed it all off and said the whole thing was clearly ridiculous. Obviously Hermione wasn't going out with _Viktor __Krum_, and since that part of the article was clearly absurd, the part about Harry was equally invalid. Harry was just grateful that it hadn't generated some new rift between them because he was just too tired at the moment to deal with Ron being an arse again.

In fact, Ron was acting as if nothing had ever happened between the two of them, and while Harry wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that, he still preferred it over the way things had been the previous month. It was easier to slip back into old habits than it was to 'rock the boat' and worry about how he felt about the whole thing.

The first real trouble with this 'just let it go and pretend things are normal' attitude, arose during Care of Magical Creatures when Ron obviously expected Harry to be his partner again. For one moment Harry wasn't sure what to do, but then the answer came quite easily. Which of the two friends had stood by him during the most stressful and difficult time in recent memory? Draco. So to Draco's side he went, while trying very hard to pretend he didn't notice how Ron's face had twisted up in anger and apparent confusion.

It looked as if he were about to storm over and ask Harry what the heck he was doing, but Hermione, thankfully intervened, and then class started. By the end of the class, Ron seemed to have gotten over his urge to rage at Harry, but he still looked a bit upset. Ron, being Ron, seemed to get over it and forget rather quickly, and the 'pretend-things-are-normal' act resumed. _Right __up __until __they__ entered __the __Potions __lab__ the __following__ morning._

Upon entering the Potions lab, Harry walked right over to the table he'd been sitting at with Malfoy for the last month and sat down. Ron stood at the door to the classroom with a deeply confused frown on his face, and again, Harry tried to pretend he was oblivious to this as he dug out his supplies and set up his work station.

Harry was only saved by the inevitable confrontation by the appearance of Snape and the start of class, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he had to deal with Ron. That time, it turned out, was directly after class.

Harry had just finished packing up all of his things while Draco took their sample up to the front and put it on Snape's desk, when Ron came over and stood beside Harry's station, glaring at him.

Harry instantly stiffened defensively. "Ron," Harry greeted flatly.

"What's going on, Harry? I thought we were okay? Why the heck are you still sitting with _Malfoy?_"

Harry gave him a flat glare before sighing in annoyed frustration and shouldering his rucksack. "Not here, okay?"

Ron nodded, still frowning.

Draco came back, looking at Harry with cautious concern, and outright _glaring_ at Ron.

"You okay, Harry?" Draco asked, not taking his hateful stare off of Ron.

Ron seemed to go very red in the face in response to this. "Don't you pretend like you actually care about him!" he snapped.

"Oh, _you're_ one to talk! Where the hell have _you_ been the last month?" Draco sneered back. "What, now that Harry's won the first task you want to be friends again? You want to get buddy-buddy again now that he's not scorned by the whole school and it's cool to be the Boy-Who-Lived's best mate again?"

Harry glared sharply at Ron when he looked about to burst, and put a temporary halt to whatever he was going to say. He turned to Draco with a slightly reprimanding glare before sighing tiredly. "I'm fine Draco. I'll see you later in Runes, okay?"

Draco took several moments before he removed his glare from Ron and looked over at Harry and nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you."

Draco reached down and picked up his own bag, slinging it over his shoulder and slowly leaving while looking back over his shoulder at Ron and Harry. Hermione was standing a few feet behind him, looking worried and hesitant.

"Come on," Harry growled at Ron as he turned and stormed out of the classroom with Ron and Hermione following behind.

The trio went down the hall in tense silence for a while before Harry turned into an old dusty room that was now nothing more than a cluttered storage room. Harry turned around as soon as the door had closed and sighed at Ron.

"Alright, talk," Harry said flatly.

"What the hell is going on, Harry?" Ron practically shouted. "You said we were fine, but you're still sitting with Malfoy!"

"Yeah, is there some rule that says I can't be fine with you and still be friends with Draco?" Harry snapped.

"_Friends?_ Are you mental? _He's __Malfoy,_ Harry! You're not friends!"

"Yeah, Ron, actually, _we __are_. And he's been a damn sight better friend to me the last month than _you_ have. I'd probably be dragon-kibble right now if it weren't for him, you know!"

Ron gaped but then his face flushed angry again. "You can't seriously think that the two of you are _friends!_ He's a Malfoy, Harry, and a _Slytherin!_ I thought you were just sitting with him to get back at me for being such a git! I didn't think that you actually believed the two of you were _friends!_ How can you honestly trust him? He's just using you or something. Probably some evil scheme from his father!"

"You don't know anything, Ron!" Harry yelled angrily. "You come strolling back after having abandoned me for nearly a month, and you have the nerve to bad mouth one of the two people here at school who actually believed me from the start and stuck by me?

"Draco and Hermione were two of the only people who really believed me when I told everyone I didn't put my name in the goblet. _Draco __Malfoy_ believed me, without any question, when my _best __mate_ didn't! And it was Draco who came up with how to knock the dragon out with pixie dust; and _Draco _was the one who actually _got_ me the pixie dust; and _Draco_ helped Hermione and I research spells; and _Draco_ helped me practice every available opportunity for two days so I could work on my aim and shooting the dust while mounted on my broom. Where the hell were _you_, Ron? Where you _you_ when someone, probably out for my head, put my name in that goblet, and half the school shunned me as a liar and a cheat? Oh, that's right. You were off being an angry jealous prat who refused to take my word for it when I swore I had nothing to do with entering this stupid ruddy tournament!"

"But Harry –" Ron argued weakly, pale and stunned.

"No! Look Ron, I can get that you feel overshadowed or whatever other jealous rubbish reasons you have for what you did, but that's no excuse for this. Draco is my friend. That's just the way it is now, and I'm not going to just up and drop him just because you've decided you want to be my friend again. He stuck by me when it mattered. I _like __him_. He's a shockingly good friend, believe it or not. I'm not asking that you be his friend too, Ron, but don't think that you can demand that I stop being friends with him just because you can't let go of an old grudge."

"An _old__ grudge?_ Is that a joke! Harry, he's a lying, cheating, slimy snake! His family are –"

"You don't know a damn thing about him! And I don't give a damn about what you _think_ you know about him or his family. Because you don't know anything, Ron! You've never tried to get to know him – you refuse to, all because of old family prejudices."

"How can you say that! He was a right shit to the both of us for all of first and second years, Harry! He was just as awful to you as he was to me! How can you stand to even be _near_ him?"

"That was _years__ ago_ Ron. We were eleven years old! People grow up and people change. Draco has changed a lot since first and second years, and if you would just open your damn eyes and actually look, you'd be able to see that. He's even nice to Hermione now – isn't he?" Harry finished by looking over at Hermione, who had remained standing beside the door, apparently trying to stay out of their argument.

Hermione sighed with apparent exasperation before nodding her head in a reluctantly conceded gesture. "He has been nice to me in Arithmancy all year so far, and that's without Harry even being there like he is in Runes. And he was perfectly polite when we were researching on spells and practicing for the task."

"See!" Harry shot at Ron who was gaping at Hermione and looking as if she'd just betrayed him in some way.

"It's true, Ron," Hermione said, more insistent now. "And he was distantly polite all of last year too. He hasn't called me 'Mudblood' since second year. Not once. I haven't heard him call anyone else that either."

Ron shifted from gaping to scowling and folded his arms across his chest indignantly. "Fine, whatever. I still think you're making a mistake. He's a Malfoy, and a Slytherin. He can't be trusted."

"That's your uninformed opinion," Harry ground out.

"Whatever. But I still don't get why you'd rather be his partner in classes instead of me. We've been friends since first year, Harry. You only just started hanging out with Malfoy like, three weeks ago!"

"First off, Ron – you and I have almost all of our classes together. We've got Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, History and Astronomy, where you and I can be partners in class. I only have three classes with Draco – Potions, Runes, and Creatures. And those are practically the only times I get to see him! I can't sit with him at meals, and I can't exactly hang out with him in a common room, since we're in different houses. These are the only times I get to spend with him, really, so I'm going to use them. You've been partnering with Kellah Matthews all month in Potions – just keep doing that. What's the big deal?"

Ron's face was contorted with frustration and anger, but after a moment of silent fuming he seemed to deflate somewhat and turned away slightly to pout.

The argument basically ended there, and Hermione dragged them out of the classroom and to their next class, that they were now late for. Things were still a bit frosty between them, but it seemed mostly the result of Ron's stubborn hate of Draco, and Harry's anger that Ron would have the nerve to try and make Harry chose between then. The simple truth of the matter was that if Ron _did_ give Harry an ultimatum, insisting that he pick between the two of them, Harry was pretty sure that Ron would lose.

That evening, Hermione asked Harry about the egg clue, after being reminded of it by someone and Harry told her and Ron about how it was apparently in Mermish and his grandfather thought he would need to be submerged under water with it to understand it.

He'd tried just submerging _it_ in a sink and opening it, but it hadn't done any good. He figured he needed to be submerged _with __it_, and so far that had proved difficult since Harry had no idea where he would find a bath.

Hermione pointed out that the prefect bathrooms were supposed to have large bath tubs in them, so Harry could try getting permission to use the Gryffindor boy's prefects bath from McGonagall, since it was part of the tournament. Harry figured it was a much better idea than jumping in the lake with his egg and decided to ask his head of house at the next opportunity.

The following morning, a rather unexpected event occurred. Practically a flock of owls made their way into the Great Hall, all with letters for Hermione. What started out as confusing, ended up being rather horrifying, as several of them turned out to be howlers, and the rest were still all quite angry and offensive. One of them was even charmed to explode with bobutubor puss. If Harry hadn't caught the scent before she opened it, Hermione would have likely ended up with horrible burning boils on her hands.

The whole thing, it turned out, was a response to Rita Skeeter's article about Hermione _cheating_ on Harry with Viktor Krum. At that point, the whole ridiculous rumor about he and Hermione being involved went from annoying and embarrassing, to down-right fury-inducing.

Harry apologized profusely to Hermione, but she insisted that it was hardly his fault and he certainly wasn't the one who owed her an apology. Harry decided at that moment to contact his grandfather right away about contacting Witch Weekly and printing a retraction or a correction or something. Hell, he'd even give another interview just so he could get it out there that he and Hermione were just _friends_ and nothing more. Anything to stop his friend from getting hate-mail and cursed letters.

–

Harry spoke with Professor McGonagall about needing to use a bath and secured permission to use the prefects bath. He also wrote to his grandfather about Rita's article and Hermione's hate mail. Lucas wrote back two days later informing Harry that he was on it and would get back to him when he had news.

Harry took the egg into the prefects bath that Saturday morning and, after fighting against his embarrassment over how absurd he felt, he dunked himself under the water and opened the egg. Just as his grandfather had predicted, the garbled screams became perfectly understandable once listened to under water. In fact, it was _singing_.

Harry had to dunk under and re-open it several times before he pulled himself out of the water and rushed over to his bag so he could dig out some parchment and write it down. He dried himself off and started draining the enormous bathtub while he got dressed and left. After a brief stop in his dorm room to drop off the egg and collect his Runes books, he left for the Library where he was supposed to meet with Draco, Zabini, Parkinson, and Hermione.

The Slytherins were already there when he arrived and he easily made his way over to the table and sat down. He wasted no time in informing Draco about what he'd just learned.

"Okay, so how does it go again?" Draco asked, getting his own piece of parchment ready.

"_Come __seek __us __where__ our __voices__ sound,_  
_We __cannot__ sing__ above __the __ground,_  
_And __while __you're__ searching __ponder__ this;_  
_We've __taken __what__ you'll __sorely __miss,_  
_An__ hour __long __you'll __have __to __look,_  
_And __to __recover __what __we__ took,_  
_But__ past __an __hour,__ the __prospect's__ black,_  
_Too __late __it's __gone, __it __won't __come__ back,__" _Harry recited from his notes.

"Seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground... so it'll be underwater," Draco mused.

"Are there merfolk in the Black Lake?" Harry asked.

"Yes, of course. There's supposedly a whole village of them down there.

Harry's eyes widened and he felt a pit of dread settle in his gut.

"We've taken what you'll sorely miss, an hour long you'll have to look. Well, that's farily straight forward. They're going to take something of yours and you'll have one hour in the lake to try and find it. How absurd! An hour to search the whole of the Black Lake?" Draco exclaimed incredulously.

"I'd say it's more likely that whatever they take will be in a fairly obvious location," Parkinson mused. "Probably the merfolk village, honestly. The trick is getting there in one piece. There's all sorts of awful things in that lake. Grindylows, and the squid, and who knows what else."

"That's all fine and well, but how the heck am I going to spend an _hour_ under water?" Harry exclaimed.

"Oh, well that's hardly that big of a deal. There's loads of different options for underwater breathing," Parkinson said dismissively.

"Oh? Like what?" Harry asked, eagerly.

"Well, there's the bubblehead charm for one. That's probably the most obvious, but I suppose it would screw with visibility."

"Isn't there some plant that gives you gills and fins?" Zabini asked, twisting up his face in thought. "I'm sure I read about it in a herbology book at some point."

Parkinson just shrugged. "No clue. But I hate Herbology, so I'm hardly one to ask."

At that point, Hermione showed up and she was filled in on what had been discussed so far. A bit more discussion was had on the subject before Harry changed it back to Runes, stating that he had _months_ to work on the second task, but they had their exam for runes the following Wednesday.

Zabini wholeheartedly agreed with him and Parkinson just shrugged and accepted that he had a point. Draco still seemed pre-occupied, and Harry noticed that he still seemed to be spending much of his time in the library that day looking for spells, charms, and plants that would help with underwater traversal and survival.

Hermione seemed to also remain slightly distracted with worry and lent her aid to Draco on a few occasions; however her ingrained sense of school work ethic overrode her worry and she quickly shifted her focus to Runes revision.

–

Zabini leaned back in his chair, stretching his back and groaning softly before falling forward and letting his head hit his book. He mumbled something about being burned out from too much studying before raising his head and thanking Harry for all the help. He stood up, packed up his things, and announced that he was heading out to get some fresh air before his head imploded.

Parkinson bid him farewell, and Draco gave him a distracted wave while remaining buried in whatever book he was reading.

After a while longer Draco heaved a sigh and told the others he had to go because he'd promised Professor Snape that he'd help him with some things this weekend. He packed up his things, gave a quick goodbye to Harry, then Parkinson and gave a polite nod to Hermione.

Shortly after that Hermione had to leave, having promised Ron that she'd help him with their Transfiguration essay that he had apparently put off _again_. Harry said goodbye to her, and promised he'd be up as soon as he was finished with the last couple inches of his Runes paper.

Harry's eyes followed her as she left before looking back at his pile of notes. He remained there, sitting in the silence of the library for several long moments before he could no longer ignore the sensation of being stared at. He looked up to find Parkinson giving him a speculative stare from across the table.

"Um... is something wrong?" he asked hesitantly. Harry realized suddenly that this was probably the first time he'd ever been alone with Parkinson. They hadn't really spoken much, aside from class-related questions and answers, and she'd seemed perpetually wary of him in every one of the study sessions that Draco had dragged her to with him.

"I'm just trying to work something out," she said simply as she leaned to the side and propped her chin on the palm of her hand with her elbow resting on the study desk.

"Need my help with something?" Harry asked.

"Oh, this isn't about Runes," she said with a smirk.

"Oh... okay," Harry said, not entirely sure how to proceed.

She continued to _watch_ him for several seconds more of silence and Harry felt himself growing ever increasingly uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze.

"What do you think of Draco?" she asked so suddenly that Harry nearly jumped.

"Huh?"

"Draco. You and he being friends. It's weird. But I'm starting to work something out. So tell me – what do you think of him?"

"What do I _think_ of him? What sort of question is that?" Harry shot back, confused and defensive.

Parkinson just rolled her eyes dramatically. "Just answer the question."

"I don't _get_ the question. It doesn't make sense."

She huffed out a frustrated sort of noise and seemed to mutter something about thick-headed Gryffindors under her breath. "It's fairly straightforward, Potter. Do you think of him as a friend? Do you like him? Do you still hold any grudges about how you two used to be at each others' throats? I mean... how the heck did the two of you end up being friends _anyway_?"

"I..." Harry faltered, feeling rather overwhelmed by all her questions, but he quickly pulled himself together. "I think of him as a friend. He's a really good friend," he said with an awkward shrug. "I get that we didn't start out that way – furthest thing from it, really, but he's changed a lot since then."

Parkinson hummed and nodded her head, still propped up on the palm of her hand. "He certainly has," she agreed. "So how did the two of you end up burying the hatchet, as it were?"

"Well... I don't know. I guess it started with me saving him from the Hippogriff last year in Care of Magical Creatures, and then him saving me from falling to my death after the Dementors attacked me during Quidditch. We didn't start being _friends_ back then, but I guess that was our official truce. He stopped fighting with me last year, and I had no reason to fight back then."

"Yeah, I get that, but how'd you become _friends?_ That seemed to just come out of _no__where_. And doesn't it worry you? I mean, him coming out and being all friendly with you as soon as your name comes out of the Goblet? I get that you Gryffindors are all about fairness and justice and second chances or whatever other ridiculous ideals you hold, but surely you aren't so naïve that you'd just _trust_ that at face value?"

Harry bristled at this and sat up a bit straighter in his seat, glaring mildly at her. "Actually, our friendship didn't just appear out of no where at the end of October. We actually wrote a few letters back and forth over the summer, and talked a few times since the start of term."

"You wrote _letters_ over the summer?" she said with obvious shock in her voice - but also a tinge of something else, something _pleased._

"Yeah we did," Harry said defensively.

Parkinson's lips were slightly parted with apparent surprise and she sat up straighter before leaning back in her chair and scrutinizing Harry again. Then, slowly, a smirk spread across her lips and Harry felt himself grow slightly wary at the sight of it.

"So are you and Granger really an item?" she asked, and the sudden and rather drastic shift in subject matter made Harry's head spin. Where the hell did _that_ question come from?

"What? No!" Harry sputtered.

"No?" Parkinson asked with a grin.

"Yeah, we're just friends. Hermione's like a sister to me. It'd be just... _weird_ to... be anything else," Harry ended lamely.

Parkinson hummed almost knowingly and leaned forward to resume her old position with her head propped up by her elbow.

"You know, I've known Draco since before I can even remember. Our mothers are friends, you see, and Draco and I would end up in the playroom while our mothers had tea at least twice a week."

"Okay..." Harry said slowly, still feeling rather bewildered as to where this whole line of conversation had come from.

"When I was younger I got this idea in my head that I was someday going to be the next Mrs. Malfoy. That Draco and I would someday get married, and live happily ever after," she grinned almost sadly and laughed lightly. "When I was little I used to imagine myself around Malfoy Manor throwing tea parties and galas just like Draco's mother. Of course, I realize that's just not going to happen _now_, and I have to admit that I've only seen him as a brother more than anything else for years now."

Harry wasn't sure what to make of his boiling cauldron of emotions that was his stomach at what Parkinson was telling him. His gut had twisted up strangely when she'd been talking about being the next Mrs. Malfoy, but it'd lessoned considerably by the end. Over all, however, he was just confused.

"But how can you be so sure that it won't happen now?" Harry asked, despite himself.

Parkinson snorted out laugh. "I'm not quite Draco's type," she rolled her eyes.

"What makes you say it's not going to happen now? People change a lot as they grow up, and you could always end up... I don't know – _being __his __type_ eventually. I mean, look at me and Draco. Two years ago and I never would have expected to like hanging out with him, but look at how I spent my morning?"

She gave him a pitying sort of laugh. "No matter how much he and I grow and change over the next few years, I rather doubt I'm going to grow a penis. Trust me, Potter. I'm _never_ going to be Draco's type."

Harry blanched and felt himself go beet red with embarrassed shock. "W-what?" he sputtered. "You – why would he... I..." Harry snapped his mouth shut and put a halt to his confused rambling in an attempt to process what she'd just said. "Are you saying that Draco's... that he likes... _boys?__"_

She laughed. "Oh _please_! It's obvious enough that I shouldn't even have to answer that. But yes. He does."

"Obvious? I don't think it's obvious! How do you know?"

"Well for one, _he __told __me_. Draco's known he liked boys since he was twelve. But even without that, there are more than enough signs. I mean, how many straight boys spend as much time as Draco does tending to his hair? Or have as many clothes as Draco does?"

"Caring about your hair and having nice clothes doesn't make someone _gay_," Harry argued.

"True. I'm sure there are plenty gay boys out there that don't even bother to brush their hair in the morning," she gave him a pointed look and he flinched slightly, "but Draco's one of those flamingly posh gay boys. And honestly - how many straight boys are a graceful as Draco is?"

Harry's jaw floundered as he found he had absolutely no words to say in response.

Parkinson just sat there, grinning at him rather smugly for several long moments before Harry found that he did have something he wanted to say; or ask, rather.

"How... how could he have known he was um... gay, at twelve? I mean... how do you _know_ something like that?"

She gave him a look that seemed to state quite clearly that she was deeply doubtful of his level of intelligence. She heaved a put-upon sigh and sat up straighter.

"Well, first off, I'm going to assume that you know better than to repeat any of this to anyone else, right? You're a Gryffindor so you've got that absurd sense of what's right and what's just and all that, and you're Draco's friend which is the only reason I've told you as much as I have, but what I'm going to say next is not to be repeated to anyone. Even Draco. He's already going to flay me alive if he realizes I've told you this much."

Harry eyed her warily but nodded his head slowly.

"Well, it's not like I known personally what it's like to realize that you're gay since, obviously, I'm not, but I don't think it's so much a matter of _realizing _it, as much as just accepting it. Draco said something to me once that made sense. He asked me when I _realized_ that I was straight? And obviously there was no epiphany that I had one day that said 'Oh, I like boys', it was just something I grew into understanding about myself as I started to find myself attracted to boys in a more _real_ way. It was expected of me, of course, so it was an easy to start understanding that boys weren't icky anymore and that I was starting to see them as more than just 'stupid boys'.

"Obviously, for Draco, it was _expected_ that he'd like girls, but he _didn't, _so it was probably a lot harder to come to terms with the fact that when he wanked it wasn't mental pictures of girls that brought him off, but imagining _boys_. But Draco has never been one for denying himself of things, or lying to himself. The only thing that he's ever done that with is the Veela nonsense, and that's because his father's been a asshole about it. But being gay? Draco never felt the need to be in denial over that, so I guess he came to terms with it fairly quickly."

Harry sat there openly gaping at Parkinson. He felt confused, and weirdly frightened, but also sort of... excited. Which really only scared him further. Then something else she'd said clicked in his brain.

"Wait... you know he's Veela?"

Parkinson snorted. "Of _course_ I know. I already told you that I've known him since we were babies. I was _there_ when he set his room on fire several times when we were kids. I was probably the only person he confided in when he first started to understand what was going on, but after his father started cramming all that _shame_ down his throat, he bottled it up and wouldn't even talk to _me_ about it. But I never forgot. And even without that, all you have to do is _look_ at him and it should be obvious what he is. I mean, he's probably the most gorgeous guy in this school. The only other guy that comes close is _you_, and everyone knows now that _you're_ a Veela."

"_Me?__" _Harry squeaked.

Parkinson scoffed. "_Please_, Potter. False modesty does not become you, and ignorant modesty is just as bad. You can't be so dense that you don't realize how good looking you've become."

Harry just flushed red and kept his mouth shut. After a moment, Harry swallowed and decided to press on. "Why... why are you telling me all this?" he asked weakly.

Parkinson pinned him with another long _look_ before finally responding. "Because I love Draco. I'm not _in __love_ with him. I'm not so pathetic that I'd waste my time pinning over my gay best friend, but he's like family and I want him to be happy."

"I... I don't get it – why..?"

Parkinson rolled her eyes dramatically again and gave him another one of those pitying looks. "Hopefully you'll work that out on your own. Anyway, _I_ need to be getting back to the dungeons. My room mates are expecting me. See you in class, Potter," she said as she suddenly stood up and began to gather her things.

Harry felt like insisting she sit her butt back down and explain what the heck she was on about, but found himself too overwhelmed and confused to do so.

Finally she slung her bag over her shoulder and began to walk away. "Later Potter," she called out.

"Uh... right bye." he said before standing up suddenly. "Parkinson," he called out and she stopped to turn around and look at him expectantly. "Um... thanks. And... you can call me Harry."

Her face softened slightly, although her smile was still more smirk than anything else. "Alright, Harry. You can call me Pansy."

Harry grinned weakly and nodded his head. "Right. Er, thanks. Bye."

She gave him another dip of her chin before turning and leaving him alone in the library with far too many things to think about than he had the free mental resources to deal with at once.

–

Harry had spent the whole of the day _thinking_. He couldn't stop himself from thinking, even though he'd tried several times. He'd been distracted through dinner, and his evening spent in the common room. Hermione had thought he was distracted by the clue for the second task, but Harry could barely be bothered to spare the second task a thought at the moment. It just seemed so far away, while the things that Pansy had said seemed so immediately in his face.

Harry had never given sexuality much of a thought, he realized. Part of his mind rationalized that he was just a late bloomer or something. When his roommates got to talking about _girls_ and _things_, he'd never been interested. He'd participated in the conversations as much as was mandatory, but rarely engaged in them. He just wasn't interested the way they were. He didn't really _get_ what the big deal was. It had embarrassed him that this was another thing about him that had seemed abnormal from his peers, but rationalized it with the thought that he was _busy,_ and there were more important things for him to be worrying about than _girls_.

Besides, he figured he'd have plenty of time to deal with the headache that was girls once his Allure kicked in and he was suddenly swarmed with them. _That _thought had been rather horrifying in and of itself, and he'd been deeply dreading when that would eventually happen.

But would it happen?

Well, the Allure thing was going to happen, no matter what – that wasn't up for debate – but would he be swamped by girls when it happened?

He'd never actually questioned as to whether or not he would like girls when he finally started liking people in _that __way_. He was a boy, and boys liked girls. That was just... a _fact_. But really... it wasn't. Boys could like other boys too, and he knew that. He'd just never applied that fact to himself.

Could he like boys?

The last thing that he wanted was _another_ thing that made him a freak. Yet another thing about him that made him _abnormal_.

But then another part of his brain protested fiercely against this thought. What was so wrong with being abnormal? The Dursley's had always strived to be as _normal_ as possible. One of the reason's they'd hated him so much was that he _wasn't_ normal – even though, as a child, he hadn't understood what it was about him that they found so horribly wrong.

Of course, he understood now. He was a wizard, and that was about as not-normal as one could get from their point of view. But even within the wizarding world, Harry had been abnormal, and that had bothered him so much for so long. He was finally in a world where he could be around others that were like him, but even here he was a freak. But why did he want to be normal, anyway?

The Dursley's wanted to be normal, and there was simply no value in trying to aim for any of the same goals as the Dursley's.

Uncle Vernon would have utterly despised the idea of Harry being gay, Harry realized. Harry suspected that if there was any group that Vernon Dursley hated as much as he hated wizards, it would be 'faggots'.

Was that the reason that there was such a horrified, twisted pit in his gut at the mere suggestion that he might be...

Why did it still effect him so strongly? He hadn't seen the Dursley's in years, and yet they still effected him and his behavior. Harry _hated_ the idea that they were still filling him with shame, even all these years later.

They were horrible bastards. Monsters in their own right. It hadn't been his fault. _None_ of it had been his fault. He didn't do anything to deserve the way they had treated him. _They_ were the freaks. They were the ones doing irrational, and reprehensible things to a defenseless child. Harry understood that now. Enough time with his grandfather and family that actually loved him had finally taught him that much.

The Dursley's were the monsters, and nothing they believed in was worth a second thought. Being 'normal' was obviously highly over rated. Besides, he had to come to terms with the fact that he was _never_ going to be normal. He was three-quarters wizard, and one-quarter Veela. He could talk to snakes and horses. He could transform into a winged avian and _fly,_and that was _brilliant._

But on top of that, he was the subject of a prophecy, and presently carrying around a bit of an immortal Dark Lord's soul in his head. Really – there was just _no __way_ that he was ever going to be normal. So what was the point in even _trying_?

If he really _was_ gay... was that really so bad? His family would still love him – of that, he was sure. His Uncle Leon's wife, Josiane, had a younger brother that was gay. Harry had met him at a few different family gatherings over the last couple summers, and at the last couple, he'd brought a date – a man with very striking blue eyes and long black hair that Harry had found rather brilliantly nice.

The family hadn't even batted an eyelash at the two men being together, and it had become obvious rather quickly to Harry, that _to__ them_, it was completely a non-issue.

The only unpleasant thing that Harry could imagine in regards to the whole 'being gay' thing would be the public reaction and the press he'd get in response. But honestly? To hell with the press! Harry had already figured out that he could never really win with them, and he wasn't going to let public opinion dictate his life!

The question was... was he gay?

He realized at this point that he didn't really like girls. But did he like boys?

As he lay in bed late that night, _still_ thinking, Harry's mind wandered to the bit of his conversation with Pansy when he'd asked her how a person would _know_ they were gay. Specifically, the part where she mentioned Draco... _wanking_... to thoughts of boys. Harry found himself flushed and embarrassed just thinking about that.

He knew that wanking was a very utilitarian action for him. He did it as infrequently as possible, and when he did do it, he did it as quickly and quietly as he could manage. This was for several reasons – one was that he lived in a dorm room with four other boys, and he was embarrassed. There was also the fact that the one and only time his aunt Petunia had caught him _touching __himself_, he'd ended up with his hand under her clothing iron as punishment.

He'd been taught that it was something to be ashamed of – something _dirty_ that he shouldn't be doing.

But it wasn't! _Everyone_ masturbated. Hell, Seamus took a rather perverse pride in how skilled he was at wanking, which Harry had _never_ understood. Was it really that big of a deal to have an especially good wank? But maybe he was just doing it wrong. For him, it was just sort of a way to get rid of a particularly annoying twitch that wouldn't leave him be.

Pansy had mentioned Draco picturing boys instead of girls while wanking; while Harry had never really pictured much of _anything_ at all. He was just trying to get the job done with as little fuss as possible, and simply focused on the sensation and physical stimulation. What sort of effect would there be if he tried picturing something, instead? Would that be good test? If he could get off faster or better by imagining some sort of _sexual_ scene in his mind while he wanked... would that mean he was gay?

He supposed he'd have to try it with both a girl and a guy, and see if one was more effective than the other. Then he took a mental step back and nearly guffawed at how ridiculous his line of thought was.

He pulled his hangings closed and used his wand to cast a small area silencing ward directly around his bed, because there was _no __way_ he was going to risk anyone realizing what he was doing, and then lay there for several minutes facing an internal struggle. Despite his earlier conviction, he still found himself hesitant, and downright embarrassed by what he was considering doing.

Finally, he gave a frustrated huff at himself and pulled down his pajama bottoms, closed his eyes and started to aimlessly stroke his flaccid cock while a yet another new battle began in his head. _Who__ would __he __picture?_

The first thought that came to mind was Draco, but another part of his mind blanched in embarrassment at the mere idea. It almost seemed _wrong_ somehow to picture his friend while he wanked, but he couldn't think of a single other person to try picturing. And Draco _was_ very nice looking. And he smelled good, and had nice skin and his hair was...

He finally squashed his internal struggle by deciding not to picture any specific person at all, but to just try picturing a faceless male. However he wasn't finding that plan to be all that successful when after a few minutes of awkward attempts to focus, his cock was still quite flaccid.

Maybe he wasn't gay.

Or maybe he was just nervous and being an idiot, even though there was no way anyone would ever know what he was doing, and he needed to just get over this irrational idea that there was anything to be ashamed of _in__ the __first __place_, and do this.

Harry growled in annoyance at his own circular thoughts and refocused his mind. Finally he just caved in and tried picturing Draco. The image of his friend came to his mind instantly, although the image Harry held was of a clothed Draco, standing and smirking back at him. Then, seemingly of it's own accord, Harry's mind brought forward the memory of he and Draco in the music store in Hogsmeade the weekend prior.

Draco, standing just behind him and leaning over his shoulder, speaking almost directly into Harry's ear. The warmth of Draco's chest pressed up against Harry's shoulder and back. In Harry's mind's eye, Draco's left hand came up and came to rest on Harry's left bicep, while he leaned forward and breathed into Harry's right ear, whispering quiet, unintelligible words that still seemed to send shivers down his spine.

Draco's left hand began to gently run up and down Harry's arm while the blond's right arm snaked its way around, down and under Harry's shirt, coming up and caressing over his chest and abdomen. Draco leaned in further and began to nip along the shell of Harry's ear, pulling it in between his teeth gently, and trailing his tongue around the outer edge before releasing the ear and trailing his tongue down onto Harry's neck.

Some detached part of Harry's mind was aware that his cock was anything but flaccid at this point, and his rhythmic strokes were becoming faster with each passing moment as the sparks of pleasure began to grow stronger and stronger in his groin and gut.

In Harry's imagination, Draco's right hand that was rubbing tantalizing circles along his abdomen began to move further south, playing at the waist of Harry's trousers, teasingly. Suddenly, all of Draco's body pressed flush against Harry's back and he let out a small gasp as he imagined that he felt the other boy's erection pressing into the cleft of his arse. He bucked back into it and was rewarded with a hissed breath from Draco, pressed into the flesh of Harry's neck where the blond was now nibbling and sucking.

"Draco..." Harry whispered breathlessly into the silence of his bed as his hand worked over his shaft with ever increasing fury. It felt so good. So good. And he was so close...

In his mind, Draco thrust several times into his bum, and he pressed back before arching his hips upwards, just as Draco's fingers ducked below the waist of his pants and down in to grasp hold of Harry's cock. As soon as Harry's imagined-Draco wrapped his hand around Harry's imagined-cock, he felt his world explode and he jerked up into his own hand, and gasped aloud as ropes of cum shot out over his hand and pooled over his stomach as he panted heavily.

He lay there in a state of post-coital haze for several minutes, just recovering from the rather intense sexual experience. It had definitely been a _lot_ more satisfying than any of his previous attempts at wanking. He could easily admit that much to himself.

Only now, as the haze of his mind began to clear did he feel that embarrassed shame fill him again, knowing how he'd used the image of his friend the way he had. He tried to rationalize with himself that he wasn't hurting or using Draco in any way. He was just _imagining_ him, and that hardly hurt anyone, but he still felt like he'd done something he shouldn't.

But, bloody hell, it had been brilliant. It was the hottest thing he'd ever done – which was probably rather pathetic, considering all he'd done was _wank._

His fantasy hadn't even been that explicit either. It was rather tame, and innocent, in reality and even _he_ knew that. But the things that he had imagined had seemed _possible_ which probably made it much better than some unrealistic and impossible fantasy.

He'd actually been in that music store with Draco, and they'd stood close enough that they could have pressed together like that. Draco really could have leaned in and licked his ear; sucked the lobe into his mouth, and bit and suckled on his neck. Draco really could have wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight against his warm, firmly toned body; holding onto Harry's arm and stomach with powerful hands. Press his cock into Harry's backside. Wrapped his hand around Harry's aching, needy, shaft and –

Bloody hell, he was hard again! _What __the __hell?_

Okay well... did this mean he really was gay? It was possible he was just attracted to Draco, but what about other boys?

Harry leaved out a breath but then grimaced as the movement caused some of the pooled cum to start to drip down the side of his stomach. He quickly grabbed his wand and cast a cleaning charm to rid himself of the sticky drying mess before settling back down in his bed to think.

Had he ever been attracted to any other boys? How about any girls?

He frowned, letting his mind travel back and trying to identify any situations where he'd actually checked out any of his classmates. At first he was convinced that there was simply nothing to find, but then his mind supplied him with a memory of October 30th – the night when the students who had wanted to enter the tournament were putting their names into the Goblet of Fire, and everyone else had gathered in the Great Hall to watch and cheer them on.

He remembered thinking about all the girls going all goo-goo eyed over Krum and Cedric, and he himself had paused to look at them as well. He _remembered_ thinking that Cedric Diggory really was actually rather attractive.

He still thought so too. He'd have to be blind not to notice something like that, honestly. Diggory was tall and slim, but he had nice broad shoulders and his fitted shirts gave hints of a toned chest. He probably had an amazing stomach. And his smile was really beautiful. And his hair...

But Draco was better. His hair was shinier, and Harry liked that Draco actually managed to keep his hair tamed and orderly while maintaining that shine. He was so glad that Draco didn't slick his hair back with gel anymore. And Harry really liked Draco's eyes. He was slimmer than Cedric and had a smaller build, but he was less intimidating in that way. Cedric was a bit much, Harry supposed, but Draco was just perfect. Harry wondered suddenly what Draco looked like without all those robes obscuring the view. He knew he looked brilliant in his quidditch uniform. It was much more form-fitting and it was a lot easier to see a person's build that way. Harry had always liked seeing Draco in his Quidditch uniform, but even in his more casual non-class wear on the weekends, Draco always dressed nicely. He always looked so good. He –

Shit.

He really did like blokes, didn't he?

Did he just exist in a perpetual state of denial, or was he really so thick that he hadn't realized this sooner?

He knew he'd been aware for quite a while that he didn't fancy girls, but he'd always finished that sentence with a 'yet' at the end. He figured he'd fancy them... later. Or something. And he'd never made that one-step-further connection from not-fancying-girls, to fancying-boys-instead.

But he did. He really did.

And he fancied Draco. He was attracted to one of his best friends.

But... Draco was gay too, right? So maybe...

Harry shook his head, determining at that point that he was just not going to go there yet. One life-altering shock at a time. He'd only just come to the realization that he was gay – he could wait a bit to start thinking about dating.

– –

Harry did his best to pretend that nothing had changed at all over the next few days. Despite this, he still found that he flushed a rather bright red when he saw Draco next. Images from his fantasy flashed in his mind and Harry found his eyes falling to Draco's lips and his eyes, and then trailing over his whole damn body.

It seemed like his realization had flipped a switch and opened the flood gates because now he couldn't quite stop himself from checking out his friend almost constantly. Harry decided he thought that Draco's shoulders were nice. Who's attracted to shoulders? How weird was that? But Draco had nice shoulders. Or... the shape of that whole area. The width, and the way his neck came down to them... was that a weird thing to think looked good?

But it wasn't just Draco that Harry found himself eyeing up rather constantly. He found he was now checking out pretty much every guy in his grade or higher and he always seemed to end up comparing them to his blond Slytherin friend in how appealing he found them. The thing was that they just never really even came close to as looking as good. Sure, there were actually quite a few blokes in Harry's classes and that he saw in the halls and grounds that were pretty good looking, but none were as good looking as Draco.

After Harry caught himself checking out Ron and deciding that his friend was still a big too gangly, but that in a year or so he might really grow into himself, Harry put a mental halt to his wandering eye and tried to focus on his homework instead.

In Care of Magical Creatures the following week, Harry was thrown off with surprise at the sight of Rita Skeeter showing up towards the end of class and asking Hagrid if he'd consent to an Interview later that week. The sight of the woman filled Harry with instant indignation. Hermione was _still_ getting the occasional bit of hate-mail from that damned article the awful woman had written after the task.

Harry's grandfather had been having words with the editors of both Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet, and was threatening a lawsuit if they continued to publish completely unsubstantiated rumor-mill trash in the pretense of it being 'news', but they didn't seem to be taking the threat very seriously. Luc suspected that they got a lot of such threats since they were basically both known for publishing such trash almost constantly. The Prophet was hardly a legitimate news publication anymore, and were barely better than a gossip rag. And Witch Weekly pretty much _was_ a gossip rag.

Thinking back to the letter Hermione had gotten with the Bobutubor puss in it, Harry was filled with the almost utterly irrational urge to walk up to Skeeter and just tell her he was gay, just to put a full-stop to the rumors that he and Hermione were an item and guarantee that the heat would be taken off of her.

But then he realized just how very, very stupid that would be, and did a mental slap in the face to himself.

Class ended and Harry walked up to the castle with Draco while Hermione dragged Ron along, about ten feet behind them trying to keep the ginger boy distracted from the sight of Harry walking with _Malfoy_. They hadn't been working in groups, specifically, that class but Harry had still spent the class at Draco's side and they'd chatted the entire time when not working. Things were normal between them, and Harry found it easy to slip into his normal friendship with the blond, despite his personal revelation of being quite attracted to the other boy. But he still found himself often eyeing Draco up.

Harry worried he wasn't being discrete enough with his sudden tendency to watch Draco because he'd caught Pansy smirking at him knowingly several times that week, during Runes, and their library study session.

Harry also found that he seemed to be subconsciously trying to get closer to the other boy. When he did it, he didn't even realize it was happening until he could feel the heat radiating off of Draco because they were so close to touching.

He just smelled so damn good lately, and Harry would swear that Draco had been smiling a lot more lately too. When Harry got an especially good whiff of Draco's scent, he had to fight against the urge to lean in closer and bury his face in Draco's neck. He'd catch himself on the brink of temptation and have to mentally yank himself back, bewildered by the intensity of his utterly bizarre impulses.

Despite all of this subtly hidden insanity, the week had seemed pretty uneventful. The fervor over the first task had finally died down, and there were _months_ until the second task, so there was no tension in that park.

Classes were back to normal. Harry was partnering with Ron in most all of the classes they shared, just like old times, and Ron was valiantly trying to ignore the fact that Harry was now good friends with Draco Malfoy. It seemed that an 'agree to disagree' and just _not__ talk __about __it_ tactic had been taken, and the pair simply avoided the topic all together, so as to not rock the boat. It was working good because they were able to hang out and talk and joke just like old times again.

Harry wondered on a few occasions how Ron would take it if he told his friend about his realization about his sexuality, but decided not to broach the topic with Ron yet. Their re-established friendship was still on slightly unstable ground and Harry just didn't want to introduce anything new and unexpected into an already iffy situation. Hermione was another matter though, and Harry wondered when he should try telling her. He was pretty sure she'd take it alright, but... well he wasn't _positive._ And he felt like he should tell his family first. He felt like it was most important to tell his grandfather, but he had no idea how to even bring that subject up with the man, and he definitely didn't want to do it through a letter. This was something that needed to be face-to-face – and not rushed either.

He needed to talk to someone about it _now_. Or, soon at least. He was going a bit crazy, just buzzing the thoughts around in his own head. He felt like a dog chasing it's tail.

That sparked another thought.

Sirius.

His godfather.

It was like a light switch had been turned on. Sirius was the perfect person to talk to about this! He was Harry's godfather, and he was always moaning about how he didn't get to do enough 'godfathery-things' for Harry – which Harry thought was just ridiculous, really, but he knew Sirius felt a bit cooped up and helpless being stuck in the Veela Nation the way he was. And Sirius didn't have that 'parental' feeling that Harry's grandfather or grandmother had. He was more like Harry's crazy uncle/friend. The idea of talking about er... sex things with Sirius didn't seem quite so icky or weird as the idea of discussing it with his grandfather did.

Plus the mirror gave him the opportunity to talk to Sirius over a great distance, but still be real-time and secure.

Harry committed himself at that moment to set aside a nice chunk of time the coming Saturday to giving his godfather a call.

The only other non-status quo occurrence for the week was the very notable increase in his nightly activities. The first two nights after his 'revelation' he pointedly did _not_ wank. He still felt it was somehow inappropriate to wank to fantasies of his friend, and he knew very well that if he wanked, it would be to images of Draco. That's just how it was. But after two mornings, waking up to sticky sheets, Harry gave in the following night and had himself a very satisfying personal session to imagined intimate touches and kisses with a certain blond.

The fact that he did it again the following morning in the shower, and that night as well, was probably part of why when Harry couldn't see Draco pass in the halls, or look at the blond during meals across the Great Hall, without images flashing in his mind and bringing a rather warm blush to his cheeks.

Despite this, he still managed to act generally normal around Draco in classes and in study session. Which, honestly, he thought was a right miracle, all things considered.

Harry was just starting to get comfortable with his new routine and new outlook on the general male populace of the school when a new bombshell was dropped in his lap.

Friday afternoon in Transfiguration class, McGonagall announced that Hogwarts would be hosting a Yule Ball that Christmas, for the Triwizard Tournament. Fourth years and up were allowed to attend the event – the only exception being if a third year was invited as a fourth-year-or-higher's date.

The girls were instantly chattering excitedly, while a great many of the boys looked rather nervous. Harry's first reaction was to just dismiss it as entirely unimportant. After all, it was during the winter holidays, and he'd be _home_ then. He certainly didn't have to worry about a ball that he wasn't even going to be attending. It was a non-issue.

Or at least, it was until McGonagall informed him, personally, that as one of the Champions he was expected to lead the ball in the opening dance.

"But Professor – " Harry began, instantly, "I won't be here for the ball. I'm going home for the holidays."

"You _will_ be expected to attend, Mr. Potter," she replied sternly. "It is a responsibility as a champion to attend. The ball is held on December 24th. We are allowing for students to leave the school on the morning of the 26th to return to their homes until the end of the winter holidays on the third of January."

"But then I'd miss Christmas!" Harry protested instantly.

"Well, I am sorry, Mr. Potter, but _you_ specifically, as one of the tournament champions, _have_ to be in attendance."

Harry foundered almost desperately for a moment. "Do I have to wait till the twenty-sixth to leave?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, I'm assuming that you mean on the 26th you're letting students take the Hogwarts Express out of Hogsmeade, right?"

"That's correct."

"Can I take a portkey instead on the night of the 24th? When the ball is done, I could just portkey home."

"It's rather short notice for you to be seeking permission for a private international portkey, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said doubtfully.

"I have a permanent one that my grandfather had issued over a year ago. It'll take me straight home. Can I use that?"

Her eyebrows raised into her forehead slightly with apparent surprise. "Is this a _legal_ portkey, Mr. Potter?"

Harry glared at her at this. "Of course it is," he snapped. "You do realize who my grandfather _is_, right?"

McGonagall simply raised her eyebrows into her forehead and giving him a rather unamused look in response to his sharp tone. Harry was cowed a bit, but he was still rather incensed that she would actually ask a question like that.

"Would it be alright if I left on the night of the twenty-fourth?" Harry asked again, in a rather forced tone.

"I suppose that would certainly be acceptable, Mr. Potter, assuming you can present me with consent from your guardian stating that he is aware of your plans and approves them."

"That's fine," Harry said easily. Finally he turned away and huffed a rather frustrated sort of sound.

"I hope that I do not have to tell you, Mr. Potter, that as one of the Champions you will be expected to attend at least _most_ of the ball, in addition to leading the first dance. The ball begins at eight o'clock and goes until midnight."

Harry nodded distractedly before something she said registered in his mind for the first time.

"I have to lead the _first __dance?__"_ he stated in an incredulous panic. "But I can't dance!"

She raised a single brow and looked down at him with a stern expression. "Then I suggest you participate in the dancing lessons that I will be hosting for Gryffindor house next weekend. I do not wish for my lions to make fools of themselves in such a public venue, and given your rather prominent position in the festivities, I think that you would benefit from attendance the most."

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded his head as a sense of utter dread settled into his gut.

Harry left McGonagall's classroom and made his way to the library where he knew Hermione and Ron were supposed to be waiting for him. He settled into his seat across from Hermione and next to Ron with a heavy sigh and let his head fall back as he stared, unseeingly, up at the ornate ceiling of the library.

"So what was that all about, mate?" Ron asked, looking grateful for the opportunity to put his book down.

"McGonagall says that I _have_ to attend the ball," Harry growled in frustration. "Since I'm _one__ of __the __Champions,__"_ he half-sneered, "I haven't got a choice."

"You weren't planning to go?" Hermione asked, looking surprised.

"Of course not! I was _planning_ to go _home_ for Christmas. But the stupid ball is on Christmas Eve! They're having the Hogwarts Express run on the twenty-sixth to take students home who want to go to the ball, but still spend part of their holiday home, but that would still mean missing Christmas."

Hermione frowned deeply and nodded her head. "I suppose it is rather bothersome. I was originally planning on going home for Christmas as well, of course, but with the ball, I just figured I'd be staying here the whole time."

"Well, _I'm_ still going to go home," Harry groused, folding his arms over his chest. "And I'm going to be there for Christmas too. I think I'm going to end up using my portkey and just go back to Iledevol as soon as the ruddy ball is over. That way I can at least be there for all of Christmas day."

"Harry," Hermione said in a reprimanding tone, "as I understand it, that portkey is for _emergencies_. It's hardly appropriate to use it for something like this!"

Harry just shot her a glare and she backed down.

"It's not like I ever asked to be in this stupid tournament," Harry grumbled. "This is only my second Christmas with my family, and I'm not going to miss it because of some stupid _dance_ that I don't even want to go to."

"Oh come on, Harry. It won't be _that_ bad. It's just a dance," Hermione said in exasperation.

"That's easy for you to say. You aren't going to have to 'lead the first dance' in front of the whole school. Not only do I have no idea how to dance, but it means I _have_ to get a date; no matter what. I don't even have the _option_ to go on my own."

"But why would you _want_ to go on your own?" Ron exclaimed. "Besides, it's not like you'd have any trouble getting a date. You could probably get anyone you wanted to go with you. You could probably even get that Fleur girl to go with you."

"I don't _want_ to go with Fleur!" Harry growled loudly, earning himself some hissed 'shushes' and a glare from Madam Pince.

"How could you _not_ want to go with _Fleur?__"_ Ron exclaimed incredulously.

"Her allure doesn't work on me, Ron," Harry said in the sort of voice you use when explaining something simple to a child for the hundredth time. "Fleur is just a _friend_. Nothing more."

"Well... do you think you could ask her for _me?__"_ Ron asked hopefully.

Harry shot Ron a pitying look. "I really don't think that's a good idea, Ron."

Ron's face fell into something akin to a disgruntled pout and he sat back in his chair.

"Do you have anyone in mind that you want to go with, Harry?" Hermione asked in a distracted tone and Harry looked over to find her with her nose buried back in a book.

Harry heaved a heavy sigh and leaned forward on the library table and lay his head into his folded arms. "Not anyone I can actually ask," he mumbled sadly.

– –

"Hey, Harry," a voice said from just behind his left shoulder, and Harry twisted around to find Pansy Parkinson standing there, grinning down at him, appearing completely unphased by the curious stares and occasional glares being sent her way from the other Gryffindors at the table around him. It was Saturday morning now, and the Great Hall was sparsely filled with breakfast attendees.

"Oh, hey Pansy," Harry said, somewhat startled. "Can I help you with something?"

"Draco and I were going to study in the library today for the Defense exam next week. I was wondering if you'd like to join us?" she asked, sweetly.

Harry's eyebrows raised into his forehead slightly and he couldn't help but wonder what Pansy was actually doing. If he'd learned one thing from having spent the last month occasionally hanging out with Slytherins, it was that things were rarely what they seemed at face value. They always seemed to have hidden motives behind their words and actions.

"I've heard you're top of our year in Defense," she pressed on before he could say anything in response, "and I know that _I_ could use all the help I can get in the class," she finished, looking down at him and batting her eyelashes.

He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment before sighing and shrugging. "Yeah, that's probably fine, Pansy. I've got some plans for the next few hours though, but I'm free this afternoon. When are you planning this study session for?"

"We were thinking around two o'clock in the library."

"Yeah, that should be fine," Harry said with a nod.

She grinned widely. "Fantastic! I'll see you then, Harry," she said as she spun around and walked away with a bit of a bounce in her step.

Harry shook his head, but found himself grinning slightly in amusement at her antics before turning back and finding most of the Gryffindor table looking at him.

"What?" he asked defensively.

At that, most of them looked away quickly, but a few didn't. One was Seamus, who was who looked like he was about to laugh. Another was Ron, who looked like he was on the verge of shooting steam out his ears.

Harry heaved a frustrated sigh. "What is it, Seamus?" he asked, tiredly.

"You _do_ realize what she wants, don't you?" he asked, with a bit of a leer.

Harry just frowned at him with blank confusion. "Uh... she wants me to help her with her Defense homework?"

Seamus snorted. "No, she wants you to ask her to the dance!" Seamus said, snickering all the while.

Ron, if possible, got even redder.

"What?" Harry asked with a laugh. "No she doesn't!"

"Oh come _on_ Harry! It's obvious! I'm just surprised though. I mean, I wouldn't have expected the first girl to get up the guts to ask you, to be a S_lytherin_. But you _have_ been hanging out with some of them this year."

"Pansy is not going to ask me to the dance," Harry reiterated, insistently.

–

Shortly after that, Harry made his way back up to the Gryffindor common room, intent upon isolating himself up in his dorm room and using the magical mirror to call his godfather. However, before he could reach the stairs, he found himself ambushed by fifth year girl who he _thought_ was named something Miller, but he really wasn't sure.

"Hey, Harry," she said, smiling up at him with a coy expression and fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Internally, he groaned quite miserably, already suspecting what was coming, but outwardly he fixed a rather strained smile on his face and greeted her back.

Five minutes later he was dodging a _third-year_ girl, who seemed intent upon asking him to the dance as soon as it became obvious that he'd turned down Miller. Fortunately he was able to dodge her completely and raced up the stairs to his sanctuary.

Harry was relieved to find the room empty. He opened up his trunk, dug out the mirror he'd gotten from his godfather, and then crawled onto his bed, sitting cross-legged and pulling the hangings closed around him. He cast a quick privacy ward before sucking in a deep breath and looking down at the mirror.

Sirius answered the mirror only a minute after Harry first initiated the 'call', and the two had a quick few minutes of catching up on the general goings-on. They'd talked a bit over a week prior, just after the task, but before Harry's life-altering conversation with Pansy Parkinson.

"She punched me!" Sirius was exclaiming indignantly at one point, while Harry howled with laugher on his bed, trying to make sure he didn't drop the mirror in the process.

"Oh, _ha,__ha_," Sirius said with an exaggerated pout. "Just laugh it up. Let's see how you feel when you find yourself on the wrong end of a woman's scorn. These veela women – I tell you! They just don't know how to let go of a grudge! _One_ little mistake and _bam!_ You're dodging fireballs like your life depended on it!"

"Well, you really should know better than to sleep around with the Chateaux's staff, Siri," Harry said in an amused reprimanding voice. "They all talk; you know that! Those girls live off gossip."

Sirius turned his head to the side, and the angle exaggerated the pout the man had on his face.

Harry grinned and chuckled for a moment before it slid slowly off his face and he fumbled uncomfortably for a moment. Sirius apparently caught on, because he stopped pouting and gave Harry a curious look.

"Something up, pup?"

"Erm... Yeah, I guess so. There was something specific I wanted to talk about with you today. Something pretty um... big."

"Well, I'm all ears, kiddo. Lay it on me and I'll do everything I can to help," Sirius said with an encouraging smile and a nod.

"Okay... well," Harry fumbled and swallowed the fear and bile threatening to rise in his throat. "So I've got this problem. I think... I mean, well, I don't just think, I'm pretty much positive, but still..."

"Harry, it's _okay_. Just tell me," Sirius said calmly.

Harry let out a small, almost panicked laugh and nodded his head. "Right. Okay. I'll just say it. I'm gay."

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

Harry's jaw floundered for a moment before a small smile spread across his lips and he pressed on. "They're holding a Yule Ball over the holidays because of the tournament, and as one of the Champions, they say I'm required to be there. And I _have_ to have a date, because I have to lead the first dance with the other champions. But I don't want to ask a girl! I hate this!"

"Ah. I see. Well, that does suck. And you _have_ to go to this thing? Are you still going to be able to come home for the holidays?" Sirius asked, looking worried.

Harry smiled and nodded. "I'll miss the first week, but I'll be able to be home for the last two, so that's still something. I'm planning to use my portkey to get home on the night of the 24th, as soon as the stupid ball is done. So at least I'll be home for Christmas day."

"Well, that's something at least. So, back to the supposed big-problem – did you ever consider just asking a boy?"

Harry blanched. "Are you mad? I can't go to the ball with another boy!"

"Why not?"

Harry's jaw floundered again as he gaped at his godfather's image in the mirror. "B-because! Because then everyone would know I was gay!"

"So?"

Harry sat back, staring down at the mirror in shock. Could it really be that simple? Could he just... _not __care?_ Just say _'to __hell __with __what__ you __all __think!'_ and do what he wanted?

"Look, Harry," Sirius pressed on, "I'm not going to lie to you and pretend that people won't freak out. There are definitely some people that will freak out, but you know what? Screw them! It's your life, and you've already had to deal with more shit than any kid your age should have. I've seen how much of a relief it's been for you to go public with your Veela heritage, and I _know_ it bothered you that you were hiding it like it was something to be ashamed of."

"It's not!" Harry said then and Sirius grinned and nodded.

"Exactly. And neither is this. If you keep it bottled up inside, then it's like a part of you believes that it's something that you should be ashamed of and hide, and it's just _not_. But it's really up to you whether or not you feel comfortable going public with something personal like this. It'd be one thing for your average teenager to come to a formal ball with another bloke – people would look and talk and gossip, and the girls would giggle – but it'd be forgotten quickly enough. You. You're an icon to those people, whether you like it or not, and that kind of sucks."

Harry snorted bitterly.

"People will be shocked, and people will definitely talk, and keep talking about it for a while probably, but I actually think that your pseudo-celebrity status might give you more leeway than you think. And you standing up and doing this just might give any of the other gay blokes in your school the guts to come forward too."

Harry blinked and then frowned in thought. That was certainly not something he'd considered before.

"Sirius, can I ask you a question?"

"I think you just did –" Harry gave him an unamused glare and he grinned cheekily, "but go ahead."

"What's the general opinion of um... gay people, in the wizarding world? I mean, I know that the way Petunia's husband felt about _gay__ people_ isn't the way _all_ muggles feel about them, but it's still what I grew up around and I –"

"Vernon Dursley is a bigoted, idiotic, fat bastard, and his opinion is worth less than dung," Sirius growled.

Harry grinned weakly and chuckled.

Sirius heaved a small sigh and seemed to adjust in his seat. "Okay, I'm probably not the best person to be asking that question, since I've been out of the whole public opinion pool for quite a while now, and the only social exposure I've had is here in Iledevol around Veela who definitely don't give a damn if your gay or straight."

"Ah, yeah... right," Harry said, nodding his head.

"But I do know what it was like back when I was in school, and things in the wizarding world tend to change at a stupidly slow rate," Sirius pressed and Harry looked at him expectantly.

"Some people would look at it as if it were the worst sort of scandal. But others wouldn't bat an eyelash. It's a muddled soup, really. The muggleborn and halfbloods were a bit more apt to applying 'moral' concerns to the whole thing. The purebloods don't think there's a damn thing 'wrong' with it as long as it's kept quiet. Also, the male head of the family is still expected to marry and produce an heir or two, no matter if he likes blokes or not. However, it's been common practice in those situations for the head of house to have a lover on the side – sort of like a consort that is quietly acknowledged by the family, and a trophy wife that produces the required heir or two and then sits back and enjoys high society."

Harry made a face. "Whoa, really? That's... kind of awful."

Sirius shrugged, "Yeah, I suppose. But it's how they work. My dad was gay, and had himself a lover. His name was Antonius Marx, and I'd have to say that I liked him a damn sight more than I ever liked my mother. But he sort of shied away from my brother and I. I suspect it was because we reminded him of the fact that my father had to be married to a woman, and had to have fucked the awful bitch at least twice to have sired us."

Harry was gaping in open shock down at the mirror. "I... have no idea what to say to that," he finally managed to say after nearly a minute of shocked floundering.

Sirius laughed and shrugged. "You do realize that my mother and father were first-cousins, right? It was a marriage of convenience really. My father _had_ to marry a woman, and sire an heir or his father would disinherit him. My mother was an awful bitch that no one in their right mind could ever actually _love_. The family couldn't find any other families that were _respectable_ enough, with a son that would have her, so they pawned her off on my gay father. I suspect it was partially punishment for his 'unfortunate predilections'."

"Wow... okay. That's... just... I still have no idea what to say."

Sirius laughed loudly again and grinned wolfishly. "I've told you before, pup; my family as a whole was completely barking mad. And purebloods have some crazy rules they feel like they have to abide by. It's all the high society nonsense that they feel like they have to maintain. Ridiculously complicates everything in life. Never once regretted my decision to run away from home at age fifteen. I mean, your dad's family were still old purebloods – hell, Dorea _was_ a Black – but they were a lot less uptight, and a lot less mental than my branch of the family tree ever was."

"Okay... so... wow. So your dad was gay?"

"Yup."

"Well, I guess that explains why you're not bothered by me... you know. At all."

"Hey, even without that, I'd hardly be one to talk. I definitely prefer my ladies, but I did my share of experimentation in my younger years. In fact, if you ever want some advice on the best ways to –"

"You know what? You can stop, right there. I'm perfectly happy not hearing this."

Sirius laughed loudly. "So, have you got a bloke in mind that you'd like to take?"

Harry had to pause at the sudden question and frowned. "I... well, sort of. There is definitely someone I'd like to go with, but he –"

"He's straight?"

"_No_, actually. Or at least, his best friend told me he's gay, and I can't quite imagine any reason why she would lie about that. So I'm pretty sure he _is_ actually gay."

"Well that's brill. So what's the problem?"

"Well, even if _I _might be willing to out myself in front of the whole school – and I'm not saying I am – I have no idea if he'd be willing to do the same. He... well, he's from one of those crazy old pureblood families, and I have no idea if he'd even be able to publicly come 'out', let alone attend a ball with the _boy-who-lived_," Harry finished with a bitter sneer before sighing and slumping slightly against his headboard.

"Ah, I see. Well, why not ask _him?_ Hmm? I mean, you'll never know for sure unless you just ask, will you?"

"But he's one of my best friends!" Harry argued. "What happens if I freak him out and it messes everything up?"

"I suppose that's a valid concern. But ask yourself this, Harry – What happens if he _doesn't_ freak out?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but slowly closed it again as he hesitantly let his mind tip-toe down the forbidden path of hope and fantasy. He didn't let it go far though before cutting it all off and heaving a sigh.

"This is all good to talk about in theory right now, but I don't think I could really do it. Not so soon anyway. I mean, I've only just sort of come to terms with the fact that I'm... that... that I'm _gay._ You're the first person I've actually told. I –"

"Wow, really?" Sirius exclaimed, beaming quite brightly at Harry through the mirror. "Harry, I'm honored!"

Harry flushed and ducked his head in embarrassment. "Yeah, well anyways, I guess I just needed someone to talk to. I know I need to tell papy Luc, but it really seems like that's something I need to do, face-to-face, you know? That's another reason I couldn't come _out_ at this ball. I won't be seeing papy again until after the ball."

"You could always use the mirror to do it. It's not _exactly_ face-to-face, but it's close. And you know, you can always ask him to come visit in person. You know he'll do it."

"Yeah, but that's sort of selfish, don't you think? I can't just expect him to drop everything and come all the way to Scotland just because I want to talk to him."

"Of course you can," Sirius retorted kindly. "And he'll do it too. But the mirrors are still an option. You used it to tell me. And it's not like you're actually worried your grandfather will take it badly... _are __you?_"

"No," Harry said shaking his head. "I know he'll be okay with it. At least... I mean, I'm pretty sure. He wouldn't have any reason to freak out... right?"

"Right. Luc is a good guy, Harry. Hell, he's taken me in out of the kindness of his heart, just because you asked him to, and he's been working towards getting the British Ministry to promise me a trial and rescind the 'kiss on sight' order."

"It's not just because I asked him to!" Harry argued. "He knows what's happened to you is wrong!"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he's obligated to put me up for months on end while I terrorize his maids and housekeeper."

Harry snickered and shrugged. "I guess. But it's not like that has any indication on how he feels about homosexuals."

"Maybe not, but you know he gets on great with Josiane's brother Jehan and his boyfriend Garin. And your grandfather is V_eela_, Harry. They don't give a damn about that stuff. It's all about compatibility of the Allure, or whatever. It is _not_ going to bother your family that you're gay."

"But how can you _know?_" Harry argued almost desperately.

Sirius gave him a soft smile. "Honestly, Harry? I think they already suspect it."

Harry blanched. "Huh?"

"There was this tea that your grandmother dragged me to over the summer with your aunts and uncles, yeah? And – okay, I know you hate the idea of people talking about you when you're not there, but well... they were talking about making sure you were prepared for for when your Allure kicks in, and how the family would try to help you if it came while you were in school, since you just turned fourteen and all." Sirius paused as if trying to decide how to proceed.

"You know all those parties that your grandmother dragged you to over the summer?"

Harry grimaced and nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, your aunts and your grandmother were sort of keeping a close eye on you during those things. Er... I think they sort of had a secret agenda in dragging you to them. They wanted to see how you reacted to any of the other teens that were present. Who you sort of _drifted_ towards. It's a Veela thing, I guess, but apparently teens who are within a year of their Allure activating start to naturally drift towards those who they're instincts detect they might be compatible with. Small things like leaning in close and stuff. Subtle body language that your aunts and your mamie apparently know what to look for and I, as a man, and a _human_ man at that, am totally oblivious to. So anyway, they made mention that you seemed to be showing much stronger uh... tendencies, towards the boys than the girls, and that you seemed especially drawn to Jehan and Garin."

Harry felt rather mortified by this bit of news. Was he seriously broadcasting 'I'm a poof' vibes to his family? When he himself hadn't even realized it yet? Not that there was anything specifically all that awful about them figuring it out on their own, but it was just terribly embarrassing anyway.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to will away the urge to bury his head in his pillows and hide until the mortified clenching in his gut went away. He took a deep breath and pressed on. "What did they... say... about this... er..." he waved his hand at himself vaguely while he stumbled over his words.

"Mostly they were discussing the problems it could cause if your Allure activated at school and your male roommates all suddenly couldn't keep their hands off you," Sirius said with a small smirk.

Harry's head shot up, his eyes wide open and his jaw hanging. "Oh shit, I didn't even think about that."

"Yeah. They said that when it happens at Beauxbatons, the Veela is given a private room of their own until they've got total control over their Allure – which sometimes never fully happens, so the end up with a private room till they graduate – but they weren't sure if Hogwarts had a policy like that since they get so few Veela students as is, it's unlikely they've gotten enough _gay_ veela for it to ever come up as an issue at all."

"Wow... okay... yeah. This... this could be a problem. Oh... that would be so weird. If Seamus, Dean, and Neville suddenly got all... _OH!_ And if _Ron_ suddenly... oh that would freak him out for life when his head cleared and he realized what had happened. He'd either blame me and just avoid me for life, or he'd... no. Damn. I'm going to have to talk to McGonagall about this," Harry rambled in a near-panic.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Good luck with that! I can't imagine a more awkward talk to have with your head of house," Sirius said in an overly cheerful voice while grinning widely at Harry, teasingly.

Harry glared back at him, unamused.

"Man... you were supposed to help me work through my muddled head, but I swear I've got more to worry about now than before!" Harry grumbled.

"Just take one thing at a time Harry, and don't worry so much. You know your family is going to be perfectly fine with this. You can tell your grandfather with my mirror any time you want, or just send him word that you'd like to see him in person before Christmas and he'll be down there right away. Go talk to McGonagall and warn her about what will probably happen when your Allure kicks in and see if they have any policies for that – you know, in fact, your grandfather could be there with you for that. It's a great excuse for bringing him down there and you can kill two birds with one stone. That way you won't have to face old McGonagall on your own."

Harry was still grumbling slightly but nodded his head to show that he knew Sirius was probably right.

"But what about the dance?"

"Well, that one is entirely up to you and this boy you like. If you really aren't ready for the whole school to see you show up to the dance with another boy, maybe you two could work something out with a pair of dykes."

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

Sirius laughed. "Well, see if you can find out if there's a couple of girls at the school who are dating. Then you and this boy of yours, and the two girls can be each others' 'dates'. That way you 'officially' come to the dance with a girl, but in reality you're with your boy, and the girls are with each other too. Works out for both parties! _And_ you get to hang out with a pair of lesbians! How great would that be?"

"Sirius, you are completely, _barking __mad_. Besides, I'd have _no __idea_ how to find out if any girls here are lesbians."

Sirius shrugged. "Hey, it was just an idea. I, personally, think you should just ask this guy you like to go with you. I think it would be _hilarious_ to see the looks on everyone's faces when they see you show up to the ball with another bloke... but that's _me_."

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "_You_ would find that funny. But from _my_ perspective, it's not nearly so hilarious."

"Awe, come on! Live a little, Harry!"

"I'm living quite enough already, thank-you-very-much."

–

- o - o - o -

AN: I've only got one more chapter written out already, so things are going to slow down drastically, update-wise, from here on out.


	11. When Girls Meddle

Chapter 11 – When Girls Meddle

Harry talked with Sirius for a while longer, and in the end, Sirius said he'd go and tell Harry's grandfather Lucas to schedule a trip to Hogwarts during the next week so he could talk with Harry and discuss a matter about Harry's eventual Allure with his Head of House. Sirius also promised not to go into any more detail than that – although Harry rather doubted Sirius was honestly capable of being _subtle, _despite his insistence to the contrary – so that Harry could tell his grandfather about his sexuality, himself. Not that he was really looking forward to that, but Sirius' suggestion that his family already suspected it, did actually take some of the weight off his shoulders.

Harry never did come to any solid conclusions on what to do about the dance, but Sirius had given him some things to think about.

When Harry was done with his 'call' with Sirius, there was still about an hour until lunch, and Harry found he wasn't really sure what to do to fill his time. However, he felt a bit emboldened by his 'coming out' with Sirius, and thought that just maybe he'd have a talk with Hermione as well.

One of the things that Sirius had suggested was that Harry should just come clean with one of his female friends, and ask her to go as his date. The problem was that Harry only had one female friend and that was Hermione, and of course, there was already enough rumor-mill fodder running about without them actually going to the ball as _dates_. So Harry had dismissed the idea, right off. However this had lead to another issue being raised – namely the fact that Hermione's harassment as a result of people thinking that she and Harry had been an item and that she had cheated on him or something, would obviously be proved false if people were to discover that Harry was gay.

Harry still didn't feel particularly inclined to coming out to the world at large, just yet, but he did think he could tell Hermione at least. He'd also let her know that if any more gossip rag articles came out and generated any more heat for his friend, that he'd be willing to come forward, even if only to protect her.

So Harry headed downstairs into the common room in search of his bookish friend, only to find that she wasn't there.

Ron, upon spotting Harry, jumped up from his game of chess against one of the second-years (who was clearly losing) and raced over. He asked, as subtly and quietly as Ron was capable of, how Harry's chat with Sirius had gone. Ron knew that Harry was calling his godfather through the two-way mirrors, but obviously, didn't know the details of what Harry had intended to talk to him about.

Harry replied that it had been great and 'Padfoot' was doing fine. He asked Ron where Hermione was, to which the ginger made an exasperated sound and informed Harry that she was in the library again.

Harry grinned, noting that he really should have been able to guess that, and said he was going to go hunt her down for something. Ron asked if Harry wanted company, and Harry dodged it by saying that it was something to do with their Runes class and that they'd probably end up studying down in the library until lunch anyway.

He left and made his way through the corridors in search of Hermione. Soon enough, he found himself in the library and it only took a few moments after that for Harry to find Hermione at a lone table near the back surrounded by stacks of books.

"Hey 'Mione," Harry greeted and Hermione's head shot up to see him.

"Oh, Harry! Perfect timing! I've been looking into ways a person can survive in water for an extended period of time and I've got a list of options for you –"

"Wow... you didn't have to do that! Not that I don't appreciate it, but the second task is still _ages_ away."

She gave him a remanding sort of glare before shaking her head in exasperation. "Harry, you cannot afford to get complacent! You have no idea what might be needed, and how long it might take for you to be prepared!"

Harry held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay. Fine. But... well can we talk about something else first? I actually came down here for a reason, and it wasn't about underwater breathing."

Hermione's face lit up with curiosity. "Oh? What's up, Harry?"

"Er... not here. Can we maybe go to an empty classroom for a bit? That way I can put up a privacy ward better."

Hermione's brow furrowed before dawning. "Oh! That's right! You were talking with – um.. Padfoot, weren't you? Is this about him?"

Harry shifted and sort of shrugged. "Er... sort of yes but mostly of no."

"Okay... That's fine Harry, just give me a minute to pack up some things and I have to check out a couple books with Madam Pince."

"Alright," Harry said with a nod and stood back as Hermione did her thing. A few minutes later, the pair were making their way down the hall from the library and then into one of the many unused classrooms in the enormous old castle. Once inside, Harry cast a locking spell on the door, and then the privacy ward.

"So how was Sirius?" Hermione asked right off.

Harry gave her a small grin. "He's great. He's terrorizing the chateaux's maids though. One of them punched him in the nose."

Hermione gasped. "What did he do?"

Harry laughed and shrugged. "Being a dog and a flirt, I guess. He's being _Sirius_, lets leave it at that."

Hermione did not look impressed but after a moment of scowling, she seemed to decide to let it go – for now. "So how was your talk with him? You said that you were planning on discussing something important with him. How did that go?"

Harry grinned at her impishly. "Pretty well, I guess. I'm still a big confused mess on a few things, but he did get me thinking about some other things that hadn't occurred to me, and I was able to come clean with him about something sort of big, and he took it really well. Better than I'd even hoped, so that was great."

"Come clean?" Hermione echoed curiously.

"Er... yeah. And as we talked, it sort of got me thinking about something else as well. So I want to tell you too."

Interest flooded her eyes and she seemed to stand a bit straighter. "What is it, Harry?"

"Okay, well first off... okay, so you know how Rita's articles with rumors about you and me being a couple have been a real hassle for you, especially? With all those ruddy howlers and crazy things in your post?"

"It's really not _that_ bad, Harry. I can handle it," she insisted instantly.

Harry held up his hand to stop her. "I know you think you can handle it, and I do appreciate that you don't want me to feel like this is my fault –"

"It's not!" she snapped instantly. "It's that awful woman's fault, Harry. You have no control over this, and it is most definitely _not your fault!"_

"Right, okay," Harry said, smiling a bit. "But like I was saying, I know that the articles have been bringing you some grief, and sometimes it seems like no matter how many times we deny it to people, they still think we're lying or something. They seem convinced that we really _are_ dating and just covering it up or something."

She gave an exasperated eyeroll and nodded her head. "People are just really stubborn sometimes, Harry. They see this as a juicy, interesting story, and they want it to be true. I don't think there's anything we can say that will change their minds."

"What about an even juicier story?" Harry offered with a sardonic grimace.

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Like what, Harry?" she asked cautiously.

"Well... okay, I'm going to preface this by stating right off that I'm not actually ready to come out with this yet. Not publicly, anyway. But I want you to know that if Skeeter prints another article and you start getting harassed again really bad, that I'm willing to come out with this to put an end to it."

"Okay..." Hermione said in a slow, unsure voice. "But Harry... what story could you possibly release that would convince people that we've never been together, and be juicy enough to get people's attention?"

"Well... I'm gay."

Hermione's jaw dropped and she gaped at him in stunned silence for a couple seconds before she audibly snapped her jaw shut.

Harry fidgeted, uncomfortably while she seemed to pull herself out of her initial stunned reaction.

"Oh Harry!" she cried suddenly as she closed the few foot gap between them and pulled him into a hug. Harry locked up in shock of his own – totally not having expected her to _hug him_ – but after a moment he did raise his hand to awkwardly pat her back.

"Er... Hermione?"

Hermione pulled back suddenly and her eyes were bright and had a determined look to them.

"You're _not_ coming out just to save me from some stupid howlers!" she insisted instantly.

"Er... okay?" Harry responded, unsure.

"But I want you to know that if you ever _do_ decide to come out – for your _own reasons_ – that I'll be there for you! You know that, right?"

Harry blinked at her once before a smile spread across his face and he nodded. "Yeah. Thanks Hermione."

"So this is what you needed to talk to Sirius about?"

"Yup. Told him just a couple hours ago. He and you are the first I've told."

"Oh Harry!" she wailed again and he suddenly found himself once again with an arm load of overly emotional Hermione. A small part in the back of his mind wondered if maybe it was _that time of the month_ for Hermione, but he instantly shied away from that though with a mental grimace.

Finally she pulled back, looking at him with an odd expression. He realized with a bit of confusion that she almost looked like she was _proud_ of him or something.

"So... yeah," Harry started uncomfortably, trying to fill the awkward silence while she continued to just smile at him. "Right. So one of the reasons I called Sirius was just to sort of rant and complain about this stupid ball, and the fact that I have to get a date. I don't know what sort of advice I was expecting to get from him, but I really should have known better than to expect anything actually _useful_."

"Oh? What was Sirius' suggestion?" Hermione asked, looking slightly amused.

Harry snorted. "He said I should just take a bloke to the ball."

Hermione looked thoughtful at that. "Well... I suppose that if you're insistent on staying 'in the closet' then taking another boy would be counter productive, but other than that, it's a valid suggestion."

"Hermione!" Harry groaned. "Even if I was _out_, it would still be bizarre. I mean, this is some traditional wizarding ball, right? With old fashioned formal dancing and stuff? There's all this tradition and stuff, and that's why I'm being forced to participate in the first place. There's probably some sort of law or etiquette rule against two people of the same gender going as dates."

"I'm pretty sure there _isn't_, Harry," Hermione said, looking thoughtful shaking her head. "You can go to the ball with whoever you want. Technically, you don't even _have_ to have a date. You just have to have someone lined up to perform the first dance with you. Of course, anyone that you perform the first dance with is probably going to be seen as your 'date' whether it's official or not."

Harry grimaced and nodded his head. He'd almost gotten his hopes up there for a moment, but she was right in the end.

Harry heaved a frustrated sigh and moved over to sit in one of the dusty chairs the littered the room. "It's just so frustrating. I _have_ to take someone as my date, but obviously I'm not interested in any of the girls here. Sirius suggested I invite a female friend who's in-the-know about my preferences, as my date, but you're my only female friend, and if the rumors about us are already bad, just imagine them if we showed up as dates."

Hermione hummed and nodded her head, looking at him sadly. "I'd still do it, Harry, except that someone already invited me and I accepted."

Harry looked up at her and his brows raised into his forehead. "Really?" he asked in surprise before a wide smile spread across his face. "That's brill 'Mione! Who?"

She flushed and ducked her head bashfully, making Harry's smile morph into a grin. It was so rare to see Hermione being _girly_ at all - well, other than when she got all emotional and hugged him for some irrational reason. She was usually so serious and studious.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth nervously for a moment before glancing at the locked and silenced door, and then back at Harry. "If I tell you... you can't tell Ron."

Harry frowned in confusion. "Okay..." he agreed slowly.

"He'll blow a gasket, I just _know_ it."

"Not that I actually thought he'd have the sense to do it, but I take it this means it's _not_ Ron?"

She rolled her eyes slightly. "No. It's not Ron."

Harry frowned in thought again. "Wait – is it a Slytherin?"

"It's not, but I'm surprised that _you_ would worry about that," she retorted somewhat accusingly.

Harry just held up his hands defensively. "I don't! I was just trying to think of who would make Ron upset, and Slytherin seemed the most obvious."

"Oh. Right. Well, it's not a Slytherin... although he _has_ been sitting at the Slytherin table since he got here..."

"Oh! One of the Durmstrang students?" Harry asked, his grin returning. "So which one?"

She fidgeted nervously for a moment before looking back up at him. "It's Viktor Krum."

Harry's jaw dropped. "No way!" Harry paused for a moment before he started to laugh.

She looked somewhat offended so he held up his hand as he calmed himself down. "Wow, Hermione... that's... wow. Really? I'm assuming he asked _you_ right?"

"Of course!"

"I thought he was driving you crazy? You were always complaining about him hanging out in the library and bringing all his annoying fangirls with him!"

"Well, it was the fangirls that were annoying. Not specifically Viktor," she said, blushing.

"Wow," Harry said again, still grinning from ear-to-ear. "Not bad, 'Mione. Really. He's quite the looker. I'm not really big on that much bulky muscle, but still. Not bad at all. And an older man, too." He wiggled his eyebrows, suggestively before chuckling again.

Hermione gaped at him for a minute before she broke out into a wide grin of her own and laughed. "Now that is going to take some getting used to!"

Harry laughed and shrugged. "It's kind of liberating, really."

"I imagine." She continued to look at him, smiling for a few moments longer, shaking her head in something akin to shocked awe before he laughed lightly. "Wow. _So!_ We have to figure out what you're going to do about this whole getting a date thing."

Harry let out a bit of a sigh, but he didn't look nearly so down now as he had before, and nodded his head. "I think one of the things I hate the most is that I feel like if I just go with _some girl_, she might get the idea in her head that I _like her_. You know? She might get all these expectations, and the Prophet or Witch Weekly will probably end up printing some sort of ridiculous article on it, like it's a huge deal, and I just hate all that. And there's the fact that the idea of dancing with some girl, in front of the whole school, freaks me out. I just... I just _hate_ the expectations!" he huffed out, sounding quite frustrated.

Hermione hummed and nodded sympathetically. A moment later she got a bit of a gleam in her eye.

"Just out of hypothetical curiosity," she began, and Harry felt himself grow a bit wary over the impish grin on her face, "if you could go with _anyone_ in the school... who would it be? And I'm talking, boys here as well. No consequences – just go to the dance with the person you want to go with."

Harry started to open his mouth before closing it and looking at her cautiously for a moment. He looked away and felt a light flush raising along his neck as he debating admitting the truth to her. When he looked back at her, she had a rather _knowing_ look in her eyes and was grinning at him.

He gave her a slightly annoyed glare before huffing out and shrugging. "Draco."

Her grin grew several times larger. "I knew it!"

Harry balked. "Knew what? You didn't even know I was gay until I told you not fifteen minutes ago!"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, it was obvious that there was _something_ more going on between you and Malfoy. I wasn't sure _what_, and I wasn't about to start making assumptions on your um..." she hesitated.

"My sexuality?"

She blushed and grinned. "Yeah." Then she paused and frowned. "But what about Malfoy? Do you think that there's any chance at all that he might fancy boys too?"

Harry's face closed off a bit and he looked away nervously.

"You know, don't you?" Hermione asked, accusingly.

Harry grimaced and looked back at her sheepishly. "Well, not for sure, I guess."

"So?" she prodded, expectantly.

"Well, Pansy sort of told me that he's gay."

"Parkinson?" Hermione exclaimed. "Why would she do that?"

"I don't know. It was really weird. But when I asked her why she was telling me everything she told me, she said it was because she loved Draco like family and wanted him to be happy. How cryptic is that?" Harry grumbled in frustration.

Hermione, however, looked like she understood perfectly well, and a slow, wide smile began to spread across her face. "He likes you back!" she exclaimed.

Harry just blinked up at her. "What?"

"Pansy was telling you that Draco _likes you!_ Don't you see, Harry?"

"No, I don't," Harry said, shaking his head.

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically, and muttered something about _boys_, _even __gay__ boys!_ Under her breath. Then she paused and looked at him speculatively. "I wonder what made her suspect that _you_ were gay. Because I didn't even realize it!"

"Whoa, what makes you think that Pansy thinks I'm gay?" Harry asked, almost panicked.

"It's _obvious_, Harry! She knows that Malfoy is gay – wait, did she say how she knows?"

"She says that they've known each other since they were in diapers. Draco apparently told her when he was twelve."

"Oh, wow. Okay, so Parkinson knows that Malfoy is gay, and knows that he likes you –"

"Hermione, we don't know that Draco likes me," Harry put in insistently.

She looked up to the ceiling as if asking a higher power to grant her patience, and pushed on. "Okay, so _hypothetically_, she knows that Draco is gay and that he likes you. But she doesn't think that he'll actually make a move on you. Either because he doesn't know you're gay, or doesn't think you'd like him back, or maybe he's even worried about messing up the friendship the two of you have somehow managed to establish. For whatever reason, she doesn't think that Draco will make the first move. But since she sees you as the brash Gryffindor type, she thinks that _you would_. But she also has to be either convinced that your gay too, or that you're noble enough to never tell anyone else what she's told you, or else she wouldn't have broken her friend's confidence by telling you that he's gay."

"How on Earth do you work all _that_ out?" Then Harry paused and flushed with guilt. "Oh crap... I just told you about Draco being gay, and I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone."

"It doesn't matter, Harry. Besides, I won't tell anyone," Hermione said dismissively with a wave of her hand. "So anyway, Parkinson must have figured that you were gay too, and by telling you that Draco was gay, that takes away some of the risk in approaching Draco about becoming more than just friends. The question as to whether or not he's gay is already taken out of the equation!"

"Yeah, but I still don't really know for a fact that Draco might like me back," Harry insisted again.

"Harry, are you even listening to me? What possible reason would Parkinson have for telling you that Malfoy is gay, and that the reason she's telling you is because '_she wants him to be happy', _if not because she wants the two of you to get together!"

Harry's jaw floundered for a moment before he frowned and looked down at his lap thoughtfully.

Hermione _did_ sort of have a good point. But did Pansy really believe that if he and Draco got together, it would make Draco happy? Harry didn't think that Pansy even_ liked_ him, let alone like him enough to want him to get together with Draco.

"I guess..." he said hesitantly. "But that still doesn't change the fact that there's no way I can ask Draco to go to the ball with me as my date. Even if there is a chance he likes me back."

Hermione sighed and shrugged. "Well, I suppose that's true. None of this solves the whole Yule Ball problem, but pushing that issue aside for a bit longer, I still think that you should try approaching Draco about how you feel."

"Are you completely barking?" Harry exclaimed. "I can't do that!"

"Harry," Hermione said with an exasperated groan. "Why not, exactly?"

"B-because – !" Harry faltered, looking almost panicked. "I just can't! I mean, what if you're wrong? Hell, what if Parkinson is just trying to mess with me, and Draco isn't gay at all?"

"Harry, you're just fishing for excuses now."

"What do you expect me to do? Just go up to him in Runes and tell him I fancy him? That's just ridiculous!"

"I really don't see how it's ridiculous, Harry. But if you're so against the direct approach, you could always try something a bit more subtle. He's a Slytherin, after all. They like subtle, or something."

"Subtle?" Harry asked, hesitantly curious.

"Try _flirting_. Just little things. Sit a bit closer. Brush hands every now and then. Say little flirty things."

"I have no idea how to flirt," Harry said in a deadpan. "I'll just end up making a fool of myself."

"Just _try_ Harry! Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Honestly? He laughs in my face, and he never wants to speak to me again. _Or_ he laughs in my face, _tells the whole school_, and openly mocks me at every available opportunity."

Hermione gave him a flat, unamused look. "Do you _honestly_ believe that the Draco you know now would do that to you?"

Harry grumbled and looked away. "No... not really."

"I mean... look at the two of you! Look how far you've come. You used to be constantly at each others throats, and now somehow you've become _friends_... and you _still_ haven't explained to me how _that_ happened. I guess I don't really know, but do you honestly think that your friendship with him is so fragile that he'd refuse to ever speak to you again, just because you admitted you were gay and that you liked him?"

Harry sighed heavily, let his head fall back and stared up at the high ceiling. "I guess I'm just worried about freaking him out and ruining everything. I... I really like Draco. _I'm_ not even sure how it happened, to be totally honest with you. But I _like_ him. I like hanging out with him." Harry sat up straighter and looked at her sadly. "I'd rather be his friend, then go back to being his enemy, or even to the whole ignoring-avoiding thing that we were doing last year."

Hermione gave him a sad look in return and sighed. "I still think you shouldn't let your fears of rejection keep you from something that might make you happy."

Harry looked at her for several long moments before chuckling weakly and shaking his head. "I can't believe how supportive you're being about this. I'm pretty sure if I told _Ron_ that I fancied Draco Malfoy, he'd just blow a gasket. You're really okay with me fancying Draco?"

"I've been fine with you being his _friend_, haven't I? Malfoy's changed a lot since we started school. I can see that, even if Ron can't. And you obviously see something in him that you like and that you trust. I trust _your_ judgment on this, Harry. If you trust him, and _you_ like him... then who am I to say anything against that? You spend a lot more time around him than I do, but the times I _have_ been around him the last month, he's been perfectly polite. He's like a completely different person than the snobby little prat that called me mudblood back in first year."

She paused and looked thoughtful then for a moment. "Did you know that at the end of last year, when you were transformed and you were fighting against Professor Lupin as a werewolf, that Malfoy refused to leave without you?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "No... I didn't know."

"He got angry at us for even _suggesting_ that we leave you there alone fighting against a _werewolf_. We practically had to drag him and his broken leg through the door, and finally I was able to reason with him that you'd be safer once we were gone because you could fly out of the werewolf's range, instead of having to keep him distracted so he wouldn't come after us."

"Oh..." Harry said softly.

"If everything you've said is true, and Pansy Parkinson was telling the truth, I honestly do think that he might like you back, Harry," Hermione said gently. "Wouldn't you regret it if I'm right, but you never took the risk to find out?"

– –

They talked for a short while longer, but pretty soon it was time for lunch and they left the isolated classroom in favor of heading to the Great Hall. They met up with Ron, Dean and Seamus there, and conversation slipped into the normal comfort zone of homework, professional Quidditch scores, and gossip about their classmates. The last part was mostly Seamus, who Harry momentarily thought was just about as bad as Lavender, when it came to talking about stuff that was probably none of their business.

Seamus, in this situation, was talking about who had already gotten dates for the ball, and who hadn't. Then Dean brought up the dance lessons that McGonagall was holding in one week's time, and all the boys groaned miserably, while the girls within hearing range chattered excitedly.

After lunch, they all returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, and Harry dug out some of his homework, and enlisted Neville's help with a Herbology paper he'd been putting off. Just before two o'clock, he got up and told the group he was heading to the library. Seamus leered at him and made some comment about Pansy Parkinson that just earned him a glare from Harry. Ron looked down-right constipated with the thought of Harry going to the library to meet up with Pansy and Draco for Defense study, but somehow managed to hold his tongue.

Harry considered asking Ron if he'd like to come along, but he really wasn't sure if he'd want to deal with the headache that would ensue on the off chance that Ron actually accepted. So he just _didn't ask_, and left the common room.

Before long, Harry was making his way into the library and looking around for any sign of Pansy or Draco. He found them at a table in the back that Hermione often sat at because it was rather large, but also pretty isolated.

"Hey," Harry said in a cheerful greeting. Draco looked up at him with surprise gracing his expression, but he still looked rather pleased.

Pansy grinned widely. "Great! You came!" she chirped and Draco's head spun to look at her suspiciously.

"You didn't tell me you invited Harry to join us," he said in a slightly accusing tone.

"I didn't? Oh, must have slipped my mind," she replied with an innocent smile that only made Draco's eyes narrow even further. "It really only made sense. Harry _is_ supposed to be top of our year in Defense."

"Well, then I suppose you don't need _my_ help, do you?" Draco drawled.

"Don't be silly, Drakie! You can _both_ help me," she smiled prettily.

Draco's face went red. "What have I told you about calling me that in public?" he growled.

Pansy shifted to a hurt-looking pout. "Awe... don't be like that Drakie."

"_Pansy,"_ he said in an angry, warning tone that really only seemed to make her grin, more than anything else.

Harry snickered and pulled out the chair next to Draco and sat down, trying very hard not to think about the conversation he'd had with Hermione only just a few hours ago. Just the same, he hesitated only for a moment before subtly scooting his chair a little bit closer to Draco's, until there was probably only about an inch between their thighs.

"Right," Harry said, interrupting what looked like a potential explosion from Draco as he glared daggers at his friend, "so we're in different sections of Defense, obviously, but I don't expect that Moody is doing much different between the Gryffindor class and the Slytherin one. Are you guys on chapter eight, too?"

And with that, they managed to get down to work. It didn't take long for Harry to make it clear to them that his strength in Defense was with the practical application of the spellwork, _not_ the behind-the-scenes theory. When it came to that, he tended to just _get it_, and had trouble explaining it to someone else. Draco was actually much stronger in that area, and as such, was more valuable a resource for someone writing an _essay_.

Harry did give Pansy some good advice to try to get a few of her spells that she was having trouble with, to cast better and with tighter control over her aim. However, being in the library as they were, they couldn't exactly practice.

They'd probably been in the library for just under an hour when Hermione suddenly showed up.

"Hey 'Mione," Harry said, looking over his shoulder towards her, after Pansy had pointed out her approach to the two boys.

"Harry! I'm glad you're still here. I think I've got the perfect solution for your problem!" she exclaimed excitedly as she came over and pulled the chair out from the end of the table, so she was diagonal from Harry and from Pansy on the opposite side.

Harry's brow furrowed. "My problem?" he asked hesitantly, filled with a small pit of dread and his eyes darted to Draco before shooting a warning glare at Hermione.

"Who to ask to the ball!" she said, grinning widely. Pansy's gaze turned sharp and Draco's head jerked slightly before he could mask the movement.

"Why is that a 'problem'?" Pansy asked with feigned disinterest. "Surely Harry wouldn't have any trouble getting a date."

Harry squirmed slightly in his seat, and silently cursed Hermione for her meddling. He looked at her with another glare, but she was glaring back just as sternly, clearly _daring_ him to do something. He flinched slightly before sighing in resignation.

"It's not so much that I can't get a date, as much as I just don't want to ask some girl out who might get all these expectations about the whole thing, you know? She might get it into her head that I _like_ her or that we're _dating _or something. And no matter who I ask... _I don't_ like her, and I don't want to date her. So..."

"Why do you have to go with someone at all?" Draco asked with a bored tone, resolutely looking down at the piece of parchment he'd been writing on.

Harry grumbled. "Because I'm a champion, I'm required to be there, and I _have_ to have someone to do the opening dance with. I was planning on going home to Iledevol, for the holidays, so I had a bit of an argument with McGonagall, trying to work out if there was some way for me to _not_ have to go to the stupid ball, but she was pretty insistent."

"Well, you don't want to _miss_ the ball!" Pansy exclaimed as if scandalized by the mere though.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"So what's your grand solution, Granger?" Draco asked, looking up at Hermione, blandly.

"Fay Dunbar!" she said with a wide grin at Harry.

Harry frowned. "Fay? Your roommate?"

"Yes! I should have thought of it immediately when we talked earlier. I can't believe it took this long for it to click, but she's perfect!"

"Dunbar? That skinny little blond with the short hair that sits in the back of the Potions lab and never says a word?" Draco asked, looking incredulous.

"Oh!" Pansy gasped, and beamed over at Hermione. "You're right! She's perfect!"

"Perfect?" Harry exclaimed. "How so? Why Fay?"

"Because, Harry," Hermione said, rolling her eyes and looking over at Pansy, who was now smirking.

"She's a lesbian!" Pansy finished, laughing.

Harry's jaw dropped. "She is?"

"Yes!" Hermione said, nodding enthusiastically.

"I've never heard that before," Draco said, looking shocked.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Draco, sweety – _you_ wouldn't _care_ about that sort of thing," she said as she gently patted his hand from across the table, and if looks could kill, Draco looked as if he'd be physically strangling Pansy with his eyes at that moment. "Most of the rest of our class all known though. And the older years too, of course. She's a halfblood, and a _Gryffindor_, so she doesn't care about the old family codes about keeping these things private. She was dating this 5th year girl in Ravenclaw earlier this year, but I think they broke up."

"But what if she wants to go to the dance with a girl?" Harry asked frowning.

"You make it clear that you're just looking for a 'no-strings-attached _companion_ to the dance, and she'll probably be fine with going with you. There aren't exactly a lot of lesbians at Hogwarts who are out to the point that they'd go to a _dance_ with another girl, so I rather doubt she has many options. Besides, you could tell her that you're fine with her dancing with whoever she wants once there. She just has to do the first dance with _you_." Pansy said.

Harry's face lit up with cautious hope and looked over at Hermione. "You think she'd really go for it? I don't think I've ever said more than two words to her before."

"She's really nice, Harry. She comes off as shy, but she's a lot of fun once she's in her comfort zone. She hangs out with Kellah most of the time, but she and I have always gotten on pretty well."

Harry understood the 'unlike Lavender and Parvati' that had gone unspoken. The two gossipy girly-girls had always clashed with Hermione rather strongly, ever since first year.

"Well... I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask her," Harry said with a sigh and a weak shrug.

"At least there wouldn't be any expectation of a relationship," Hermione said. "And like Pansy said, most everyone in the school already knows that Fay's gay, so it's unlikely that there would be rumors about the two of you dating."

"In _theory_," Harry said, sounding slightly bitter. "They'd probably all start claiming that I turned her straight or some such rubbish. Fay may not want that kind of scrutiny. Honestly, I'd feel bad for _anyone_ who agreed to be my date. They'll probably end up with an exposé in Witch Weekly like you did for just _hugging_ me after the first task. It's just ridiculous!"

"You can't let that stop you from asking, Harry. That worry will be there for _anyone_ you ask to go with you. But I think that Fay is a good option. You should at least ask her," Hermione insisted gently.

Harry heaved another sigh and sunk back into his chair a bit. "Yeah... I'll ask her later today, I guess. It's probably best to get it over with as soon as possible so I can stop stressing over it."

Hermione nodded and the group settled into silence for a moment.

"So who are you going to go with, Malfoy?" Hermione asked in a polite conversational tone. Harry sent her a small glare, but she ignored him.

Draco blinked but didn't show any other reaction. "Oh... Well, Pansy, I suppose," he said, simply.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Thanks for asking me first," she drawled in an unimpressed tone before turning to Hermione. "We're just going as friends," she continued on and sent a small smile at Harry.

Draco was giving her a very suspicious glare at this.

"So, what about you, Granger?" Pansy asked. "I'm almost surprised that you aren't taking Harry to the ball yourself."

Harry grinned then. "Oh, Hermione's already got a date," he said. "But even if she didn't, I don't think it'd be a good idea for us to go together. Not after those stupid articles and all the hate mail she got."

"Mm... yes, I suppose that's true. So who's your date then?" Pansy asked, looking at Hermione.

She blushed slightly and the corners of her lips turned up despite her efforts.

Harry chuckled and decided to save her. "I think she's keeping it a secret. You'll have to wait till the ball to find out."

Pansy pouted. "Awe. Where's the fun in that?"

"For you? There isn't," Draco said with a smirk before turning to Hermione. "It's not the Weasel, is it?"

"No," Hermione said instantly, shaking her head, and Draco tipped his chin up with a small smirk.

"Good. Because you're far too good for him."

Hermione's eyes widened with obvious surprise, and even Harry found himself rather shocked by Draco giving Hermione such a compliment to her face. Harry had to wonder about his own opinion of Ron though, since he hadn't even felt the slightest urge to defend Ron at the statement, but rather found that he agreed with it.

"Um... thanks," Hermione said, hesitantly. "I think."

"Oh! Hey, Granger?" Pansy asked suddenly, looking up at Hermione with innocent puppy-dog eyes.

Hermione turned her attention to Pansy warily. "Yes?"

"Any chance you might be sticking around for a bit?"

"Um... I suppose I could..."

"Great! Have you finished the worksheet for Charms yet?"

Draco snorted. "_Merlin_, Pansy. Are you going to try and rope everyone you find into doing your homework for you?"

She raised her pert little nose into the air imperiously in his direction. "Well, if _you're_ going to insist on becoming friends with _Gryffindors_, I may as well get something out of it." Pansy turned back to Hermione with that winningly innocent smile that wasn't fooling anyone. Hermione didn't look impressed, but after a moment, a small sign of amusement showed on her slightly upturned lips and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine, but I'm not doing it _for you._ I'll help explain the things that you're stuck on though."

"Brill!" Pansy said and dug into her bag for the assignment.

– –

"Erm... Hey, Fay? Can I talk to you for a minute?" Harry asked nervously as he came up to the corner in the common room where the short, slim, blond-haired Fay was sitting with the dark-skinned Kellah. Harry felt slightly bad knowing that he'd been in classes with these two girls since first year and had barely ever spoken to either one of them.

She blinked up at him with obvious surprise but slowly nodded. After Harry made it clear that he was hoping to speak with her in private, she asked her friend to look after her bag for her and stood up to follow Harry out of the common room. They went a short distance from the common room entrance, into a rather deserted stretch of corridor that only had a few tapestries and gargoyles lining the walls. Harry would have preferred an empty classroom, but there weren't many of those on the seventh floor, so he settled for this.

He pulled out his wand and Fay's eyes widened, so he quickly asked for permission to cast a privacy ward and she nodded cautiously.

"Sorry about that," Harry muttered as he put his wand away.

"It's fine, just... what's this about anyway?" she asked.

Harry shuffled from one foot to the other nervously. He'd gone over in his head probably a dozen different ways to approach this conversation and still felt utterly lost. Finally he huffed out a breath and just pressed on.

"Okay, now you can feel free to say no, or at least, take some time to think about it before you give me an answer, but I was wondering if you'd consider being my date to the Yule Ball?"

Fay gaped at him with obvious shock. Clearly this wasn't what she'd been expecting. Then her expression went guarded. "Why me?"

"Well... I... okay, now I'm _really_ sorry if I'm wrong on this, but you're gay, right?"

Her eyes narrowed but she nodded her head slowly.

Harry pulled in a deep breath, trying to build up the courage to say what he'd decided he owed it to her to say, if he was really going to ask her to do this for him.

"Well... so am I."

Her eyes went as wide as galleons, but she didn't say anything.

"_Please_ don't go telling anyone, okay? I'm not ready for it to get out yet, alright?"

She nodded her head silently, still apparently in shock.

"Okay, so the thing is that because I'm one of the Champions, I _have_ to go to the ball, and I _have_ to have a partner for the opening dance. It's tradition or something, and I can't get out of it. I've tried. So here I am, stuck _having_ to get a date for a dance. Obviously, I can't go with who I'd actually _like_ to go with because I'm not ready for the fact that I'm gay to get plastered all over the tabloids. But I didn't want to go with a girl that might end up getting her hopes up, thinking that I like her and that we could maybe date or something."

"Ah... I think I see where you're going with this," she said finally, nodding her head slowly with understanding. "You figured I'd be a safe bet because, since I like girls, there's no risk of me getting a crush on you and expecting something _more_, yeah?"

Harry shrugged a bit helplessly. "Yeah, basically. But if you've actually got someone you really want to go with, then obviously you should go with them. I just –"

"Yeah, sure."

"Huh?"

"I'll go with you, Harry," she said with a smile.

"You will?"

"Yeah," she said again with a small laugh.

"Are you really sure?" Harry asked cautiously. "You should probably think about it some. I mean, Hermione just _hugged_ me once, and Rita Skeeter published almost a whole article dedicated just to _Hermione_ making her out like some vixen toying with my heart and she actually got _hate mail_ and stuff. I don't want –"

"Harry, I'm sure," she insisted, still giving him a small reassuring smile.

"Okay," Harry said somewhat stilted, having expected it to be harder than that. "I'm um... well, you should probably know that I've never danced before. I'm going to go to that dancing lesson thing that McGonagall is holding next weekend, but outside of the opening dance, I don't really think I'll be much good in that area. You're totally welcome to dance with whoever you want. Don't think that you've got to hang with me the whole time. I want you to actually have fun there –"

"I'm not much of a dancer either," she said, grinning. "Don't worry about it."

Harry grinned and ducked his head before looking back up with a grateful smile. "Thanks for this. Really. It's such a load off my back to know I don't have to worry about who I'm going with for the next two weeks."

"No problem. I was just planning on going stag before. Now I get to go with a nice bloke on my arm and no worries about him spending the night hitting on me or trying to get me to kiss another girl while he watches."

Harry guffawed. "Yeah, no worries there."

She giggled. "So... out of curiosity... who else knows? About _you_, I mean? I'm guessing Hermione knows, since I'm assuming she's the one that suggested you ask me?"

Harry laughed sheepishly and nodded. "Yeah, it was her idea. But no one else really knows. Well, my godfather, but no one at school knows."

"Right. Well, I'll keep it that way. I promise I won't tell a soul," she said with a firm nod of her head and a smile.

Harry smiled back gratefully. "Thanks so much. I really appreciate it."

– –

Later on, Harry entered the Common Room and made his way over to where Ron and Hermione were both sitting on one of the couches. Harry plopped himself down next to Hermione, quite pleased with his success.

Hermione looked over at him and grinned in response to his expression. "Did you ask her?"

Harry's grin widened. "I did. And she said yes."

"That's fantastic, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

Ron looked up between the two of them with a confused expression. "Asked who? Wait – you mean for the dance?"

"Yup," Harry said, popping the 'P'.

"Who'd you ask?" Ron asked, sitting up straighter with interest.

"Fay."

"Dunbar? The girl that likes girls?" Ron echoed incredulously.

"You know about that?" Harry asked, in surprise.

"Of course! Don't you remember when Seamus was going on about how he found her and that Ravenclaw girl making out in the astronomy tower? He said it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen!"

Hermione looked skyward and huffed, while Harry just rolled his eyes and chuckled. "No, I don't especially remember that, but I probably wasn't really paying attention."

"But how come you asked out the lesbian to be your date?" Ron asked, scrunching up his face in confusion.

"No strings and no expectations," Harry said simply with a shrug.

"But Harry! You could go with _anyone!_ I just don't get you!" Ron exclaimed with an incredulous whine.

The rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful. Harry did hear from Sirius through the mirror on Sunday night that his grandfather was making arrangements to come and visit the school and to expect a letter in the next day or two with specific details.

Sirius thought it was especially funny that Harry had actually managed to find a lesbian to go to the dance with, and told Harry he should be thankful for his godfather's good advice. Harry had just rolled his eyes in exasperation.

The only other occurrence from the weekend that was noteworthy was the posting of a notice on the common room message board asking for volunteers who were fluent or near-fluent in French or Norwegian who would be willing to help the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students who were having trouble with English. Harry had very nearly forgotten all about Dumbledore mentioning this plan to him what now felt like an eternity ago. He was surprised, mostly because it had taken so long for it to happen. The foreign students had been in the school for a whole month, after all.

None of that really mattered though, and he _had_ said he'd be willing to help the Beauxbatons students, so he wrote his name down on the list for those who could speak French.

The following day in Runes, Harry sat next to Draco as had become standard over the last month. Class was quickly underway and after about forty minutes of lecture, Professor Babbling let them free to work on the assignment.

"Did the Slytherins get the notice asking for French-speaking volunteers?" Harry asked Draco as the class settled into quiet conversation and classwork.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I did see that."

"Well, you speak French right? Are you signing up?"

"I do... I hadn't exactly planned on it..." Draco paused, "what about you?"

"I signed up," Harry said with a simple shrug. "Fleur has been bugging me every morning at Breakfast anyway for English help, so I may as well do a formal job of it. McGonagall says that we'll be doing the tutoring in the common room that was set up for the Beauxbatons students, here in Hogwarts. I've been curious to see it, actually."

"Really?" Draco mused thoughtfully. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to sign up. It's not like I'm having any trouble keeping up with my school work this year, with Quidditch being canceled and all."

Harry grinned over at him brightly. "Yeah, and it'd give us somewhere we could actually hang out together that isn't class or the library."

Draco smiled back, almost shyly and Harry's heart felt like it skipped a beat in reaction.

The two fell quiet for a few minutes then, as they each began to focus more on their assignment.

"So did you ask Dunbar?" Draco asked rather suddenly and Harry blinked at him once before realizing what he'd asked.

"Oh! You mean to the ball? Yeah, I did."

"And...?" Draco said, trying to appear uninterested.

"She said yes. I..." Harry cut himself off suddenly, and paused to actually think over his words before he just blurted out something stupid. "I told her about how I didn't want someone who would expect something more out of it than just um... friends, I guess. I was afraid she'd be offended that I was only asking her because she's gay, and therefore _safe_, but she was cool with it. She said she had been planning on going alone before I asked her, and it didn't bother her that I don't really plan on dancing aside from the opening dance."

"Why not?"

"Huh?"

"Why won't you dance with her outside of the opening dance?"

"Oh... well, I can't dance," Harry said, with a sheepish smile. "McGonagall is holding some sort of dancing lesson this coming weekend so we don't all make fools of ourselves, but I don't think that one lesson is going to make that big of a difference. I'm already pretty much doomed, seeing as how there's just going to be four couples out on the dance floor for the starting dance, and everyone is going to be watching me while I step all over Fay's toes and make an idiot out of myself."

"Dancing isn't _that_ hard," Draco drawled.

"That's easy for _you_ to say. Your parents have been dragging you to formal dances since you were a child. You probably started formal dancing lessons as soon as you could _walk_."

"I didn't start _that_ early," Draco rolled his eyes. "But I learned to dance when I was _five_. Do you really think yourself incapable of doing something a five-year-old could do?"

Harry gave Draco a flat glare as the blond smirked at him daringly.

Harry snorted and looked back at his parchment. "That's great Dray – way to help my already wounded ego. Now when I fall flat on my face after breaking Fay's toes, I'll know I've failed at something you were probably brilliant at as a five-year-old."

When Draco didn't immediately respond, Harry looked back over at him curiously, and noted that Draco had a rather odd look on his face.

"What?" Harry asked, worriedly.

"What did you call me?"

"Huh?"

"You called me _Dray_," Draco said, almost incredulously.

"Oh... er... sorry. It was just something I thought I'd try out, I guess... I... I won't do it again, if you don't like it." Harry muttered, ducking his head in embarrassment.

Draco was quiet for a bit after that, and Harry felt more like an idiot by the second.

"No... I think I like it," Draco said suddenly and Harry looked up at him questioningly. Draco was smiling back at him, almost shyly, and Harry grinned back.

"Good... I like it too," Harry replied.

– –

Tuesday morning Harry got a letter from his grandfather informing him that he had arranged to floo into the Headmaster's office the following afternoon at 3 o'clock, after Harry's last class of the day, and that he'd already scheduled a meeting with Harry's Head of House, Professor McGonagall, for that evening at half passed seven. Harry felt his nerves surge, realizing that in just over a day's time, he'd be outing himself to both his grandfather _and McGonagall_, but he managed to squash the panic down before it got to be too much.

He knew there was nothing to worry about with his grandfather – or at least, he knew it _rationally_, but that didn't mean that his mind didn't still manage to freak out. McGonagall was more of an embarrassment sort of thing than a fear of rejection – although secretly that worried him too. But his sexuality was a private matter, and he didn't want to _have_ to tell her, or anyone, for that matter. But the reality was that his Allure would be kicking in some time during the next year and a half, and when it did, sharing a room with four other boys would become a very complicated ordeal, especially since even after he got control over it, it could easily slip while he was asleep. She had to be told, and Harry had to find out if there was precedent for alternate rooming to be made until he could get his allure under control.

He still had one day before having to face that, however. That evening Harry along with one other Gryffindor who Harry was fairly sure was a sixth year, and one of Fred and George's room mates, followed McGonagall as she led them down a corridor on the forth floor that Harry had rarely traveled because there were no classes in that wing. Half way there, they met up with Professor Flitwick and three Ravenclaws that Harry was only vaguely familiar with since none of them were in his year either.

They came up on a seemingly motionless statue of a woman with a water jug balanced on her head. Professor Flitwick went up to the statue smiling widely and spoke quite clearly so all of the students gathered there could hear him. "Chute de neige," which Harry knew meant 'Snowfall'.

The statue woman animated, smiled back at him, pulled the jug down off her head, gave them a little bow, and took several steps to the side, revealing the arch of stones in the wall behind her that had framed her only a moment ago. It still looked like a very solid wall, and Harry frowned when it remained that way, even after a moment of waiting.

"Just step through the archway," McGonagall said.

A few of the gathered students shot each other looks before the sixth year Gryffindor rolled her eyes and walked forward, through the wall that apparently wasn't really there. They all followed and soon found themselves facing a room of Beauxbatons students all chattering excitedly in French.

Harry and the others were lead to various seating around the room and introductions were started. Less than a minute later the two Hufflepuffs showed up, followed another minute later by one lone Slytherin – Draco.

Harry felt the smile spread across his face the moment he spotted the blond, and Draco's eyes seemed to have been drawn to him as if by instinct. There was no hesitation as Draco strode confidently away from his head of house, and across the room to the two-seater couch that Harry had ended up settled on. Harry shifted from the center where he'd sat rather intentionally to prevent anyone else from sitting next to him, over to one side, now clearly leaving room for Draco.

Opposite the couch were two squashy armchairs and another two-seater couch, angled around a low round tea table in the center. In one of the armchairs sat Fleur, surrounded by her group of friends, who were mostly all girls, with the exception of one brown-haired french boy that Harry hadn't spoken to before since he tended to sit his meals with the Ravenclaws.

Harry wasted no time in introducing Draco to the others, and noticed that the blond seemed to be eyeing Fleur with carefully concealed caution. Fleur, likewise seemed intrigued and looked between Harry and Draco several times before a small smile curled her lips. It confused Harry at first until it finally registered in his head that Fleur – as a Veela – would be able to tell that Draco was one as well. No doubt the Slytherin was worried about that.

Draco's wariness vanished quickly enough to be replaced with his usual calm confidence as their conversations got underway and it was obvious that Fleur wasn't going to remark on it. The professors had made a few comments in the beginning to give them all some idea as to what they should be doing with this time, but mostly the purpose was to give the Beauxbatons students more opportunity to interact socially with English speakers and make casual conversation. Harry almost wondered what the point of having students who spoke French was, but it became obvious as he came to realize just how many of the students there didn't seem to know much of any English at all.

The four professors themselves had disappeared less than five minutes after everyone had gathered and gotten comfortable, so they didn't have to worry about adult supervision. Not that they were getting into any trouble, but it was always a lot easier to relax without any teachers around.

Harry and Draco both found it remarkably easy to chat with the French students for the next hour and a half, switching back and forth from talking in French to talking in English. Harry was impressed with how good Draco's French was, since he'd really only ever learned it from tutors, instead of being immersed in a French-speaking environment. He had a bit of an accent, but it wasn't too obvious.

The gathered students each talked a bit about themselves and their homes. The Beauxbatons students told the Hogwarts students what their school was like, and the Hogwarts told the Beauxbatons a bit more about what their curriculum was like, since the Beauxbatons students were actually still getting tutored by two different Beauxbatons professors that had come with as chaperons.

As they were only about a half an hour from the point when any of the Hogwarts students that still remained at this point would need to leave in order to make it back to the dorms in time for curfew, when Harry became conscious of the fact that, at some point over the last hour, he had settled himself comfortably against Draco's side. He felt himself freeze in mental shock – mostly that he hadn't even noticed until that moment. He found himself wondering in mild panic whether or not Draco had noticed yet, and whether it bothered him and he was just being polite and not wanting to draw attention to it with witnesses around.

They were touching from knees to thighs, and even their sides up to their shoulders. The warmth was wonderful, actually, and Harry realized how utterly encompassed he was in Draco's scent. The panicked part of his brain was trying to find a subtle way to pull away so they were separated before Draco realized what had happened, but a much stronger part of Harry's mind rebelled against that. He didn't _want _to move. It was _so nice_. And it wasn't like Draco had shown any sign of being freaked out by it. Of course, it was possible he hadn't even noticed it yet. After all, Harry hadn't even realized it had happened until just a moment earlier. Who knew how long they'd been sitting that closely.

"Harry?"

Harry was jerked forcefully out of his panicked displacement from the conversation by the sound of his name being called. His head whipped to the side to find Draco looking at him with slight amusement.

"Hmm?"

Draco smirked. "Did you hear even a word I said?"

"Er..."

Draco rolled his eyes as if exasperated. "Of course not. I was just asking if you planned on coming again tomorrow night?"

"Oh! Um... probably not, Dray. My grandfather's coming tomorrow afternoon and then later we've got a meeting with McGonagall about er... preparations for whenever my Allure kicks in. I have no idea how late that'll run, but I've got some homework too that I should get to afterwards."

"Ah," Draco said with a slow nod. "Well, how about the following night? Elodie, Christelle, and Fleur were hoping for some more English help... from the both of us," Draco added at the last minute.

Harry shrugged easily. "Yeah, that should be fine."

"Oh, 'arry! I almost forgot!" Fleur exclaimed suddenly before looking at her friends and seemingly communicating some unsaid statement between them because they all grinned widely and giggled before Fleur turned back to Harry and Draco. "I 'ave heard that your head of 'ouse is giving you dance lessons, no?"

Harry cringed. "Er... yes. Although, it's not just me. She's holding them this coming weekend for all of Gryffindor house."

"And that's zee only lesson you're getting?" Elodie asked incredulously from Fleur's left.

"Yeah," Harry said with a small cringe.

"And you 'aven't danced before?" one of the other girls, Christelle, asked next.

Harry grimaced and sank into his seat miserably. "Never," he grumbled.

"Well that just won't do," Fleur stated superiorly. "You and Draco are 'elping us wis our Eenglish, so zee least I can do iz 'elp you wis your dancing! We can practice zee next time you come!" she declared, and the girls around her all giggled and cheered excitedly.

Harry felt a pit of horror well up inside him and turned to bury his face into Draco's shoulder, on instinct. He groaned miserably. "Help me Dray – they're going to eat me alive!" he moaned into Draco's shoulder. Draco just snickered at him.

The next thing Harry knew, the shoulder he had dug himself into shifted and twisted, dislodging him as the arm rose up and wrapped itself around the back of his neck and shoulders. Harry blinked up in surprise and found Draco now looking down at him with a smug smirk.

"Awe, don't worry, Harry. I'll protect you from the big scary French girls," Draco baby talked in a teasing voice as he grinned widely.

Harry was torn between being offended, or simply melting against the other boy from sensory overload as the sensation of Draco's arm wrapped around his shoulder and his hand now gripping at Harry's bicep swept through him like a gloriously warm and comforting blanket.

Harry's eyes fell closed practically against his will and his head dipped down as he pulled in Draco's scent. His mind jerked him back to reality quite violently a moment later and he pulled his head back up with a short stiff movement before looking sheepishly up at Draco and trying to act as if nothing odd had just happened.

Draco's smirk from before appeared to have faltered slightly and he was looking down at Harry with intensity in his sharp gray eyes. A moment later it was gone and Draco had turned back and addressed something one of the girls had said, earning another round of giggles. Harry remained frozen for a moment before he made to sit up straighter and pull away from Draco. However the blond refused to relinquish his hold on Harry, and Harry came up short as he felt Draco's grip on his shoulder tighten ever so slightly.

Harry glanced over at Draco out of the corner of his eye, curiously, but the Slytherin was back to speaking casually with the girls and appeared to all the world completely oblivious to his position with Harry.

Hesitantly, Harry sat a little straighter before leaning back into the couch and sitting rather still as Draco's arm shifted ever so slightly so that it was now along the back of his neck and the top edge of the couch-back. The hand on Harry's shoulder released and took on a relaxed pose along the back of the couch, but the contact between Harry's neck and shoulders, and the length of Draco's arm, remained.

Harry's senses seemed to remain on high alert for the remaining time spent in the Beauxbaton's common room and he found it highly difficult to actually keep track of and participate in the conversation, with as preoccupied his mind was by the constant, somewhat intimate contact between himself and his friend-who-he-fancied.

Draco's arm had been relaxing along the back of the couch for about fifteen minutes, and Harry was about ready to convince himself that he was reading way too much into things and Draco must just be _comfortable_ that way and didn't feel like moving it, when Draco stretched his legs out slightly and shifted his weight on the couch bringing him even more firmly against Harry's side. As he pulled his leg back in, it brushed against Harry's calf, then back out slightly, and then back in before resting his knee firmly against Harry's.

Harry had frozen in shock through this entire encounter, feeling stunned and petrified, and reluctantly hopeful. Draco, in stark contrast, had maintained a perfectly calm outward mask the entire time, and was still grinning and conversing casually with the gathered students without even the faintest indication that anything unusual was happening at all.

Harry was so high strung and confused by the end of the evening, he was almost glad when the few remaining Hogwarts students were all given the boot by a couple Prefects and told to go back to their common rooms before curfew, which was only in a few more minutes time.

When Draco stood up, Harry heard a small sigh escape his fine lips, but mostly Harry felt the rather shocking contrast from the close warm body-heat, to the nothingness of suddenly being deprived of Draco.

Harry actually had to blink several times and take in a deep breath to clear his mind enough to stand up. He said his goodbyes to the Beauxbatons students they'd spent the evening with, and made promises to be back in two nights.

Draco made similar promises and farewells, and the pair stepped out through the brick wall that wasn't really there and into the dimly lit corridor.

Harry and Draco stood in the hall in awkward silence for a moment as a few other students filed out and began making their ways in different directions. Harry nearly spoke several times, but found himself holding back and waiting, instead. Draco seemed to be in holding pattern as well, so Harry followed along. Finally it appeared that there would be no more students emerging from the hidden entrance, and the last of those that had come out, disappeared down the end of the corridor and out of sight completely.

Harry fidgeted slightly before making a move to speak. However, Draco beat him to it;

"You said your grandfather's coming tomorrow?" Draco asked suddenly.

"Oh, yeah," Harry confirmed with a nod.

Draco appeared thoughtful for a moment before seeming to nod to himself. "Can I meet him? I'd like to thank him for his assistance in gaining a tutor over the summer."

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed. "He's coming just after my last class of the day in mid-afternoon, but our meeting with McGonagall isn't until seven o'clock, so there should be time in there for me to introduce the two of you properly."

Draco gave Harry a small lop-sided grin. "Good."

An awkward silence spread between them again and Harry wondered if he should just say his goodbyes and start making his way towards Gryffindor Tower when Draco spoke up again.

"You said that you're meeting with McGonagall to talk about preparing for your Allure? What's there to prepare for that involves McGonagall?"

Harry's lips parted, but he felt himself freeze up in panic as twin impulses coursed through him.

One, totally insane, and utterly moronic part of himself seemed to see this as an opportunity of some sort.

_Tell_ _him!_ The crazy, irrational voice seemed to be screaming in his head.

_Tell_ _him!_ _Tell him!_

_Just_ _answer_ _his_ _question._ _That's_ _all_ _you_ _have_ _to_ _do,_ _and_ _he'll_ _know_ _the_ _truth!_ _He'll_ _know_ _that you're..._

But surely he couldn't do that... could he? It couldn't possibly be that simple?

And what if...

What if...

What if...

_'Wouldn't_ _you_ _regret_ _it_ _if_ _I'm_ _right,_ _but_ _you_ _never_ _took_ _the_ _risk_ _to_ _find_ _out?'_

Hermione's voice echoed through his mind, and suddenly he was filled with a sense of resolve.

"Well," Harry spoke haltingly, feeling his mouth go dry, and his whole body break out in a mild sweat as he was gripped with the horrible fear of rejection, and yet still somehow found the strength to keep going. "My grandmother and aunts are concerned about whether or not Hogwarts has any policy for relocating me into a private room once my Allure kicks in."

"A private room?" Draco echoed in apparent confusion. "Why would you expect that?"

Harry swallowed the boulder of self-doubt that had materialized in his throat. It felt scratchy, his mouth was so dry. "Well, I'm gay," Harry said, and was horrified when his voice broke slightly on the last word. He pressed on, as if it hadn't happened, trying to ignore his mortification.

"–which means that the only ones effected by my Allure are guys – which means my dorm mates will all likely find themselves irrationally attracted to me until I get it under control. And seeing as how that would be extremely awkward for all of us... I mean, I know a few of them would just completely freak out, and I'd rather avoid that. Whenever a Veela with same-sex attraction gains their Allure at Beauxbatons, it's policy to give them a private room until they've got it under control. So thats... that's why my grandfather is coming to talk to McGonagall."

Harry finished rather lamely, and stood there saying nothing and watching Draco's face for any signs of reaction.

His eyes had widened slightly the moment Harry had made his _big confession_, but his face had remained otherwise impassive up until the very end, when they'd suddenly filled with dawning realization and worry.

"Merlin, I'd never even considered that..." Draco whispered, looking thoughtful. "Damn, I'll have to talk to Severus about that too, won't I? The last thing I want are Crabbe and Goyle fawning all over me like _that._" Draco gave an exaggerated shudder, before smiling hesitantly at Harry.

Harry blinked twice before the full ramifications of what Draco had just said set in, and he felt a single bubble of hope float up inside him. A single, near-hysterical-sounding laugh seemed to pop out from his mouth before he closed it again.

Draco looked at him and the two just stared at each other for a long moment before Draco's features softened and he gave Harry the gentlest smile Harry had ever seen on the blond's face before. Harry's heart was racing; _pounding_ in his chest, and he felt his entire world seem to come to a halt as his eyes caught sight of Draco's hand coming up towards his own face. With feather-light gentleness, Draco brushed the backs of his knuckles and fingers against Harry's cheek.

Harry's breath caught and they continued to just stare at each other for a moment before Draco hesitantly began to pull his hand back. Harry turned his previously frozen face instantly, pushing his cheek up against Draco's hand again and sort of nuzzling the hand, mid-air.

He left his face perfectly still for a moment, cheek-pressed gently against Draco's hand, still elevated in the air, while he gathered his nerve. Slowly, Harry angled his head upwards and brought his lips against Draco's fingers and pressed a feather-light kiss there.

The most wonderful thing happened then. Draco smiled at him, and it was a bright, brilliant smile, that made Harry's heart skip a beat. Harry felt the muscles in his face straining, and realized that he was smiling back just as broadly and just as brightly. The two remained staring at each other, grinning like loons before Draco broke the spell by looking down sheepishly and chuckling slightly.

Harry laughed nervously too, and looked away, but the smile never left his face.

"We should probably go. It's past curfew," Draco said suddenly and Harry looked up at him, feeling the sinking sensation of disappointment. "We've got classes together tomorrow," Draco said reassuringly a moment later. "And we'll be back here the day after tomorrow. Maybe I can save you from some of the girl's dancing and give you a _proper_ lesson. I rather suspect I've been dancing years longer than most of those girls."

Harry blinked in surprise at that. "Wait, you want to show me how to dance?"

Draco smirked and tipped his chin up confidently. "Don't tell me that you question my skill?"

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "No way. I'm just... I mean, you'd..."

"It's not like I'll get the chance at the ball... will I? I'd may as well take what I can get," Draco said softly, and Harry's head shot up and he stared into Draco's eyes with something akin to shock and awe. "That is... if you'd be interested at all," Draco finished, still attempting to appear confident, and for once, failing rather miserably.

Harry's face softened into a smile and he nodded quickly. "I... I would."

Draco grinned again. "Brilliant. Now, we really should probably be going. I'd hate for either of us to end up with a detention and taking away from the precious-little time we have to get you ready for that ball. I can't have you looking like a fool on the dance floor in front of the whole school, now can I? I've got a reputation to uphold."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "How will it effect your reputation, if I make an idiot of myself dancing?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, it might not _yet_, but people have frustratingly long memories when it's least convenient, and a day might come when you and I get to dance at a ball out in the open, and I'd hate for it to be tainted by sour memories of a miserable performance at this silly ball."

Harry's jaw dropped, and he found himself lost for words. Draco just smirked at him and twisted around on the ball of his foot before striding down the hall. "Good night, Harry," he called out over his shoulder.

Harry's mouth floundered for a second before he shut it and swallowed. "G'night Dray," he said softly, but Draco turned to look over his shoulder and his grin looked even wider than before. Finally he turned a corner and vanished from sight.

– –

"Harry, you're late! Curfew was nearly twenty minutes ago!" Hermione reprimanded him the moment he stumbled in through the portrait hole. He was oblivious to her though as he stumbled forward a few feet and settled into his favorite overstuffed couch, directly opposite the fire.

Hermione followed, frowning in apparent confusion, and hesitated only a moment before sitting down next to him and turning to examine him worriedly. She probably wondered for a moment if Harry had been hit with a _confundus_ spell, and her eyes widened somewhat at the dazed expression on his face, accompanied by a rather wide grin.

"Harry...? Are you alright?" Hermione asked hesitantly. Harry turned his head slowly until he was looking right at her and a small bark of laughter escaped his lips before he settled for a bright smile.

"He likes me back," he said simply, still grinning like a loon.

"Huh?"

"Draco. He likes me back," Harry repeated. "You were right."

Understanding dawned in Hermione's chocolate-brown eyes and she gasped before excitedly wrapping her arms around Harry's neck and squealing. Harry laughed at her shocking enthusiasm and pulled away after a moment when she seemed to be babbling, saying things like 'I knew it!,' and 'you really should learn to listen to me, Harry', and 'It really was rather obvious, given the evidence.'

Harry laughed again and shook his head in fond exasperation. Ron chose that moment to walk over to the two of them in a huff and sat himself down on the free end of the wide couch before crossing his arms and pouting while staring unseeingly into the fireplace.

Harry raised a single questioning eyebrow, first at Hermione who shrugged, and then over at Ron.

"Ron? What's up?"

"It's this dance!" Ron seemed to explode with frustration. "How is a bloke supposed to find a girl to ask to this ruddy ball if I can't even get any of them alone! It's like they have to travel in _packs!_ It's ridiculous! And every day more and more are taken! Did you know that even Neville has a date?"

"Really?" Harry said with legitimate surprise. "Who?"

"He won't tell me! It makes me wonder if maybe he's just making it up to try and save face. Fat lot of good it'll do him on the night of the ball when he shows up alone," Ron finished with a snort.

"Wanting to keep it secret doesn't mean he doesn't have a real date," Hermione insisted, indignantly.

Ron just rolled his eyes as if he didn't take her statement seriously _at all._ Then he suddenly turned and looked at her speculatively.

"Hey Hermione," he said slowly before grinning to himself. "Yeah! You're a girl, right? How about you and I go –"

"Don't you even _dare_, Ronald Weasley," Hermione snapped as she stood up angrily.

"Whut?" Ron exclaimed with confusion and annoyance.

"I'm not going to be your _last_ _resort_. And for your information, someone else has already asked me, and I said _yes_."

"What!" Ron exclaimed, frowning almost angrily now. "Who?"

"I'm not telling _you!_" she snapped and turned to leave, but hesitated for a moment to look at Harry. Her features softened and she gave him a small smile. "Oh, and congrats Harry. I know it's going to work out. We'll talk later, yeah?"

Harry's face went slightly slack and a small pit of panic surged in his gut as he glanced over at Ron before looking back at Hermione and giving her a very hesitant smile in return. "Yeah... later."

Hermione looked back at Ron with narrowed eyes and frowning before whipping her head back around and tipping her nose into the air as she stormed away.

The tense atmosphere seemed to linger around the two as they sat in silence for a few moments later before Ron finally spoke.

"_Girls._ They're barking mad, I tell ya," he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes dramatically. "She probably doesn't even have a date."

"She does," Harry said, defensively.

Ron turned and frowned at him. "How do you know?"

"She told me about it a few days ago."

"Well, who is it?"

"She made me promise not to tell," Harry said.

"Awe! Come on, mate! You can tell me! She didn't mean it. She's just in a huff!"

"_No_ Ron. I told her I wouldn't tell, and I won't. You'll find out in just over a week anyway, at the ball."

Ron pouted indignantly and turned away from Harry to stew. "What was Hermione talking about anyway?" Ron asked after a moment.

"Huh?"

"When she congratulated you, or whatever. What was that about?"

"Oh. It's nothing. My Grandfather is coming tomorrow to meet with me and McGonagall to discuss preparing for when my Allure kicks in. That's all."

Ron looked confused as to how that could possibly warrant what Hermione had said, but seemed to shrug it off a moment later.

"Yeah, alright, whatever. So you want to play a game of Exploding Snap?"

"Nah, Ron. I've got some homework that isn't going to do itself for me, and after spending the last couple hours helping teach a bunch of french-speaking girls, conversational English, I don't have any time to waste."

Ron nodded his head twice before he got the look of someone who had just gotten an epiphany. "That's it!"

"What's it?" Harry asked, frowning.

"You're getting buddy-buddy with all those French girls!"

"Ron, I already told you that you've got _no chance_ with Fleur! I think she's already agreed to go with one of the guys in Ravenclaw –"

"No, not her. One of the _other ones!_ Find out if any of them don't have a date!"

"Awe, _Ron!"_ Harry groused.

"_Please_, Harry!"

Harry groaned and shook his head, even as he knew he would at least bring it up with Fleur's friends.

– –

AN: You'll be happy to know that I've already got another 20 pages written after this point, so I'm already well on my way to the next chapter.


	12. When things are new and exciting

AN: This chapter came out to be 35 pages long before I hit a decent scene break where I felt I could cut it off.

Also, I have been informed that mémé and pépé sound sort of 'degrading' by an actual French person, who suggested I replace them with Mamie and Papy. Seeing as how someone from France would know more about this than I do, I have taken the advice and gone back through the old chapters to replace the old instances with the alterations.

- o - o -

Chapter 12 – When things are new and exciting

Harry woke with a quiet keening moan. After a dizzying moment of pleasant foggy confusion, he was jolted by the sudden realization that he was cold and uncomfortably sticky. Any pleasant hum he'd been experiencing was replaced instantly with embarrassment as his mind woke up enough to realize what had happened... _again_.

What he could remember of the dream was little more than impressions of pleasure and touches, but even without really remembering what he'd dreamed about, Harry knew it had featured a certain blond Slytherin in the staring role.

Still filled with embarrassment, he had used a cleaning charm before gathering his toiletries and heading into his dorm's communal bathroom. Grateful that the dream had woken him earlier than most of his fellows woke, he found it empty and quickly hid himself in one of the stalls and pulled shut the curtain.

It was only after he'd soaked under a stream of hot water for several minutes, that the embarrassment melted away enough for the wide, happy grin to find its way back onto his face as he thought about the revelation of the previous night.

It wasn't necessarily anything all that unforeseen, but it was something that Harry hadn't entirely let himself hope for. Sure, _Hermione_ had insisted that Draco probably liked Harry back, but Harry still hadn't let that be enough cause for hope. Hope was risky.

But sometimes, risks were worth taking. What good was it being a Gryffindor if he didn't put his neck out on the line and take some courageous risks?

Some time later, when Harry found himself sitting at the Gryffindor table eating his breakfast surrounded by his friends to one side, and happily chatting French girls to the other, his eyes seemed unavoidably drawn across the hall to the Slytherin table. Draco wasn't there yet, but that didn't stop Harry from glancing over to it every few minutes just in case he'd missed the blond's entrance.

That was apparently an unnecessary worry since the very moment Draco passed through the open double-doors, Harry's head jerked up and his eyes flew other there. Their eyes locked and it was as if the loud din of the Great Hall had suddenly just died away and there was nothing there except for Harry and Draco. The blond seemed to have paused mid-step and they just remained frozen for an instant, staring into each others' eyes. The moment was broken when Crabbe walked right into Draco's back, causing him to stumble.

Draco turned and scowled at the large teen and then seemed to snap something at him before heaving what appeared to be an exasperated sigh. He glanced over at Harry one last time and gave him a small, almost sheepish-looking grin before pulling back his normal haughty mask and walking gracefully over towards the Slytherin table. Pansy was still standing where Draco had paused a moment earlier and looked from the leaving blond and where his eyes had locked before. She looked straight at Harry and suddenly grinned quite widely.

She winked at him before also turning towards the Slytherin table and skipping after the others.

Hermione nudged Harry in the side with her elbow, to show that she'd witnessed the whole long-distant and silent exchange as well. When he looked over at her, she was grinning smugly. Harry just ducked his head, trying to hide the smile that refused to leave his face.

The morning passed rather uneventfully, as did lunch. Finally, time for the afternoon classes arrived and Harry made his way to Runes feeling excited and nervous. The desks were different today than usual. They were transitioning into more practical work and Professor Babbling had decided that wide work tables would be more effective for this portion of the curriculum than the individual desks they'd been using before. Despite the change in desks, they were still laid out in relatively the same locations as before, so Harry walked over and sat down in the same location he normally would, right around the mid-left hand side of the room, in the second to last row. Hermione sat at the table to his right, leaving the seat sharing workspace with Harry open on his left. He looked over at her and she just grinned before looking innocent and focusing on pulling out her supplies.

Before this point, most of their work had been learning the runic alphabets, some specific words of power, how to translate things, the theory, and the history behind the application, they hadn't done a lot of practical work with more permanent rune magic. Permanent rune magic generally involved carving the runes into a surface – or in some cases, embroidering them into fabric, or etching them into glass. Apparently Hermione had actually done an extracurricular project of her own over the summer where she had hand stitched some runes into the lining of her school robes, and Harry found that rather fascinating really. But what they were starting now was what really interested him.

They were starting with wood carving, and would eventually work their way to stone. Runic magic, carved into stone, was some of the longest lasting magic known to the wizarding world. It was a part of their ancient history, and there were still bits of magic left in various ancient places, where magical runes had been imbued with power, thousands of years ago, and it was still around. Still strong.

They were starting with small area warding – the sort you could put in a small room, and carve into the threshold of a door and around the window frames – so they'd start out practicing with wood. Professor Babbling had said she was going to provide the wood and had some wood carving kits for the class to use, but she had also highly recommended everyone look into buying their own kits as well, in case they wanted to practice on their own time, and Harry had done just that.

He was pulling out the small wooden case of different sized chisels that his grandmother had sent him the week prior via Hedwig, when he felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck and turned to find Draco entering the room with Pansy and Blaise. Their eyes locked just like in the Great Hall. Harry ducked his head to try and hide the flush he felt raising from his neck up to his ears, and to try and mask the stupid grin he felt pull across his face at the sight of Draco smiling back at him.

Draco gracefully made his way into the classroom and slid onto the bench seat next to Harry further than was strictly necessary and found that their thighs were practically touching by the time he was apparently seated. Harry glanced up through his fringe at Draco and the blond grinned back. "Hey," Harry said in a near-whisper.

"Hello," Draco said back.

Draco quickly began to dig out his own things, which included a rather nice-looking carvers kit. What was surprising was that it appeared to be rather used – which was surprising since Draco was certainly not in a financial position to not afford a brand new one. Just the same, the kit was also clearly high quality and well taken care of.

Professor Babbling started the class quite quickly and set out the shabbu school carvers kits that the students could use if they didn't have their own.

It wasn't mandatory that the students get the wooden ones since they had enough for the class to use them, and they'd only be working with wood for another month or two. After that they'd move on to soapstone and then harder materials, and it was the stone carving tools that they were all expected to purchase for themselves, since they were more costly and would be a much larger focus of the curriculum for the next few years.

She went over the safety precautions and took a quick tally of who all in the class was able to cast the spells necessary to mend small nicks and cuts. Hermione, Draco, and two Ravenclaws raised their hands and Professor Babbling told anyone who managed to cut themselves to either ask herself or one of the students who had raised their hands for assistance, rather than bother Madam Pomfrey for something so small, and to prevent anyone from nicking themselves intentionally to get out of class early.

Professor Babbling did a quick recap of the assignment, and everyone was quickly set to work with her walking down the aisles, answering questions and correcting how some of the students were holding the tools.

Despite any weirdness or giddy awkwardness that might have clung to the air at first, Harry and Draco quickly found themselves slipping into easy conversation about their classwork. Harry found out that Draco had gotten his kit nearly two years earlier and had been using it to make small carvings for ages now. It was all small stuff strictly out of a book that he'd gotten the summer after second year, but it had been interesting and challenging. Plus, he'd also liked that he was able to ward things using them.

He had a large wooden chest back in his room at home that he'd carved runes all along the top to keep it secure and private. He'd also done something similar for a rather ornately carved wooden jewelery box that he'd bought for his mother for Christmas the previous winter. The box itself was little more than pretty when he'd first gotten it, but he'd added preservation, locking, anti-dust, and unbreakable runes all along the lip of the lid.

Harry found himself impressed. There was a time that he wouldn't have thought Draco Malfoy would give such a personalized and thoughtful gift to someone. A time when he would have expected something outrageously expensive or maybe something dark and evil. But of course, he knew better now. Harry could just imagine how much a mother would like such a personalized gift such as that. Although, he couldn't quite imagine how _Draco's Mother_ would react. Harry always got rather mixed impressions of the blond's mother. Draco insisted that there were times when it had been just the two of them, and his mother had shared some bit of warmth and kindness. However he got the impression that those times were few and far between.

Harry had an advantage in runes when it came to the words being carved, but not with the carving itself. He'd never done that before, and he was finding it harder than he'd expected. Draco, thankfully, had loads of suggestions for improving his technique, and getting cleaner, more precise cuts.

At some point over the course of the class, Harry found that his leg was pressed entirely up against Draco's, from knee to hip, and Draco was often leaning over him to point something out with Harry's grip on the wood chisel, or how he was holding the small block of wood he was presently practicing with. At first, Harry didn't even notice it, but the touches began to linger longer, or Draco would brush his hands against Harry's in ways not entirely necessary just to show Harry something. And then Draco's leg began to press against his and rub gently up and down.

The warmth was wonderful, and Harry's mind – that he was beginning to realize was rather slow at picking up on these things – finally seemed to realize that it was, in fact, _intentional_ on Draco's part.

Draco was reaching across Harry to pick up one of the tools that had rolled away and Harry found himself fighting the urge to lean forward and bury his nose in Draco's hair. The blond's scent was overpowering his senses more and more the longer they sat near each other, and he wondered absently when it had gotten this strong. It was such a wonderful smell. It made him almost light-headed, if he let himself breath it in too deeply. More than that, it seemed to generate the most delicious curling in his gut.

The heat and friction from Draco's gently moving leg was doing much the same thing, actually, and the longer it went on the more of a _problem_ it was beginning to induce. Harry worried that if this kept up, he was going to find it impossible to stand up and leave the classroom when the bells finally rang. He'd have to wait until most everyone had left, or at least, he was sure no one was watching closely enough to notice him covering himself with his robes.

Harry tried to carry on the casual work-related conversation that he was having with Draco, but found it increasingly hard to stay focused. How the hell Draco managed to pull it off so smoothly, while secretly brushing up against him, and rubbing his leg all over Harry, the raven-haired boy simply couldn't understand. But then again, Draco was a lot more experienced with maintaining a public mask than Harry was. Draco was _good_ at showing the world one thing, while secretly doing or feeling something completely different on the inside. Harry, in contrast, always seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve.

And right now, Harry's heart was racing.

Harry took shuddering breath as he attempted to calm himself down and caught a glimpse of a very self-satisfied, smug little smirk on Draco's lips. Harry's eyes narrowed slightly before he grinned slightly himself. Mustering up some courage of his own, Harry decided to try giving Draco a taste of his own medicine.

Harry let his left hand slide under the desk and after a shaky moment of hesitation, he brushed his fingers against Draco's thigh. The leg in question instantly froze from the slow up and down movement it had been making the last ten minutes or so. Harry let his finger tips travel gently up and down the thigh a few times, and he heard Draco's breath catch the slightest bit. His courage grew along with his grin and he flattened his full hand so that his palm was now rubbing against Draco's leg.

Harry had to fight to keep his eyes open as another heady wave of Draco's scent seemed to envelope him, and he heard Draco give out a deep shuddering breath. He felt as Draco seemed to bonelessly melt into his side as Harry gently brushed his hand all the way to Draco's knee and then slowly inched his way back upwards.

His gut curled with excitement the higher he went, but he wasn't confident enough yet to go _too_ high. Still, when he stopped and started moving his hand back down again, he heard the tiniest whimper emanate from Draco's throat.

Feeling his courage grow from the obviously positive response, Harry found his fingers inching their ways more and more towards Draco's inner thigh which each pass, but he still stopped short of going too high or to far in, and Harry felt his heart rate flutter as Draco squirmed against his side, and shifted his leg slightly with subtle frustration.

Neither one was actually _working_ anymore at this point, but neither really _cared_ either. The rest of the class was too focused on their own work to notice anything, and Professor Babbling was across the room talking with one of the Ravenclaws.

Harry gave Draco's thigh a bit of a squeeze and rubbed the pad of his thumb along the top of Draco's leg in soothing circles as he gently moved his hand up and down his inner thigh, ever closer to one of Draco's more intimate and sensitive regions. Draco's trousers were obviously made of a very fine material because it was incredibly smooth beneath Harry's touch. It was also rather thin, and Harry could feel the muscle tone the blond had, quite clearly. All that quidditch and broom riding had toned Draco's thighs wonderfully, and just _touching_ the other boy, and _feeling_ him, was enough to drastically arouse Harry.

There was definitely no questioning that Harry wouldn't be able to just _stand up_ and walk out, when class finally ended, but he rather doubted that Draco would be able to either. That thought certainly didn't help his problem, but he didn't much care about that right now. Right now, he was feeling outrageously pleased with himself. He was _actually doing this_. It was really happening, and it was wonderful. Sure, in the grand scheme of things, they were barely doing anything at all – he was just _touching_ Draco's leg. Big deal, right? But it _was_ a big deal. And he was stupidly turned on by it. You'd think it was Draco's hand that was coming within inches of touching _his_ groin, by how aroused he was at the moment, not the other way around.

"_Harry..."_ Draco breathed out in a quiet whisper, and it sent a powerful shudder coursing down Harry's spine, and the tiniest whimper from deep within his own throat.

Merlin... he needed to stop, and he needed to stop now. He was going to lose it in the middle of class, if he didn't.

Swallowing his own disappointment, and pulling in a slow breath, Harry gave Draco's leg one last squeeze before slowly retracting his hand and bringing it back above the desk.

Draco whimpered again before sighing, clearing his throat and straightening his position some. They were still sitting quite firmly against each others' sides from the hips down, but Draco was no longer leaning his shoulder against Harry's so that he could once again move his arm and focus on his work. The separation left Harry's entire left arm and side feeling cold and he had to crush down the urge to lean into Draco.

Before he knew it, Professor Babbling was giving everyone a warning that the bell would be ringing in a few minutes so they'd best be cleaning up their workstations and packing away the tools. The day had mostly just been a practice session to get familiar with the tools and techniques for carving, but she still told them all to pick one block that they thought had come out the cleanest, write their name on the back, and leave it on her desk. Harry got his things cleaned up and put away, and picked the block of wood with the fewest screw-ups, but when it came to the step where he needed to stand up and walk across the room to the professor's desk, he found himself firmly trapped in his seat.

His erection was still a very real problem, although it wasn't quite as intense of one as it had been a mere ten minutes earlier. Just the same, he didn't fancy standing up and trying to walk his way even a few feet with the likelihood of a rather noticeable tent in his pants. He couldn't help but notice that Draco wasn't moving _either_.

"And people call _me_ evil," Draco muttered under his breath and Harry looked over at him in confusion.

"Huh?"

Draco turned and smirked at him before leaning in close. "You're a _tease,_ Harry Potter," he whispered into Harry's ear, causing another pleasant tinging shudder down Harry's spine, at the feeling of Draco's warm breath caressing against his cheek and ear.

Harry ducked his head before grinning widely and looking back up at Draco through his fringe. "You started it," he said back.

"One of us had to," Draco said back, grinning smugly.

Harry just smiled wider.

"You've got Defense next, right?" Draco asked a moment later.

"Yeah, that's right," Harry replied.

"Are you going to go meet with your grandfather straight away after class?"

"He's supposed to be flooing in to Dumbledore's office at three o'clock, so I figured I'd head straight up there as soon as I was done with class," Harry said with a nod.

"Mind some company?" Draco asked.

Harry smiled. "Not at all. You've got Herbology, right? It'll take you a bit to get from the green houses up to the Defense corridor. Want to meet somewhere in the middle?"

"How about the stairs on the west end of the Serpentine corridor, just below the west tower? Then we can head straight up to the Headmaster's office."

"Sounds good," Harry agreed.

"You want me to take those up for you?" Pansy's voice cut in suddenly and both boys looked up to see her smirking down at them knowingly, and pointing to the two wooden blocks that both boys had left sitting on their work table. "I don't expect that either one of you are in the best situation to be _standing_ in such a crowded room right now," she added in a low voice that was full of smug accomplishment.

"I have no idea what you mean, Pansy, but since you've offered, I'd be most grateful if you would take them up," Draco said with a bored drawl as he messed with some parchment in his rucksack with one hand while distractedly pushing the wooden blocks to the side of the desk towards her.

She let out a small quiet snort before leaning in close and whispering. "Oh please, Draco. I've been sitting directly behind you two the whole class. I'd have to be blind and stupid not to have noticed what you two were up to, and you know I'm neither of those things." She took a step back, grinning down smugly at the two of them. Harry felt the deep seeded need to bury his face in his bag. He was overcome with embarrassment and wondered if anyone else had noticed.

"But we weren't doing anything!" Harry blurted out, defensively.

"Mmm hmm," Pansy hummed in a tone that clearly stated she didn't believe him at all.

Harry's eyes darted over to Blaise who was rolling his eyes at Pansy's antics. When he and Harry's eyes met, Harry felt fear welling up inside him, and he realized it was mostly due to his worry of being rejected by Draco's friends. The dark boy scrutinized him for a moment before he rolled his eyes rather dramatically again and gave Harry an exasperated, but surprisingly _fond_ smile.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what to make of that, but his mind did manage to register the fact that his embarrassment and nerves had succeeded in deflating the problem that had been keeping him planted firmly in his seat, so he took advantage of the fact and quickly stood up and gathered his things.

Draco seemed to linger for a moment longer before standing in a very graceful and proper sort of way, while smoothly pulling his school robes closed in the front in a manner that would have been totally subtle if not for the fact that Harry already sort of knew what was going on.

Harry had to squash a grin and quickly bade the Slytherins goodbye while he and Hermione left the room to head to the Defense corridor. They walked in silence through the crowded halls for the first minute of their journey. Harry dared to shoot her a sideways glance and felt his embarrassment rise slightly at the rather amused grin she was sporting.

Harry huffed out a sigh and decided to try and put the whole mortifying thing behind him and started a conversation about some paper Moody had assigned that was due that day. Hermione gave him a knowing look before smiling softly and easily jumping into discussing what defensive spells chained together their wand movements the most fluidly for fast casting. They met up with Ron at the door and made their way into class.

Defense passed by quickly enough and soon Harry found himself waiting at the base of the west tower stairs for Draco. He didn't have to wait long before the blond arrived and the pair greeted each other somewhat awkwardly with coy smiles and quiet chuckles. The whole area was blissfully empty and Harry wondered if Draco had planned it that way.

The two began to trek up the stairs, and their hands brushed lightly against each other every few steps, with how close they were climbing beside each other. They made it up to the seventh floor corridor and down to the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office quickly enough and then found themselves waiting with nothing specific to do. Harry didn't have the password, and even if he did, he didn't exactly want to wait up in the headmaster's office for his grandfather to arrive.

The man might try to _talk_ to him, and that would just be too awkward. Harry didn't exactly like the man very much these days, and definitely didn't trust him, but when he was actually in the man's presence, he still often felt like it was important to show respect or something. Even if the man was untrustworthy and a sneaky lair, he was still in a powerful position, and could probably make Harry's life very difficult if he really wanted to.

Well... _ more _difficult. Honestly, he'd already made Harry's life exceedingly difficult – which was probably the root of his wariness.

So the two just leaned side-by-side against the wall to the side of the gargoyle and talked. At first they talked about nothing of any real importance or substance. Class assignments, teachers, and Quidditch news. Draco got to talking about Slytherin house gossip, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle at most of it.

They were side-by-side the whole time they talked and waited. It was Draco who's hand had first slid across the small gap between them to brush against Harry's side, and Harry's hand had eventually gone down to meet it. At first they didn't actually _hold__ hands_, but their fingers did sort of brush against each other and nearly intertwine a few times as casually as they could make something like that be.

Every now and then, one would look over at the other, mid-sentence, and their eyes were meet and the two would find themselves grinning like idiots before they'd both break out into nervous laughter.

Harry felt both completely ridiculous, and ridiculously happy. Some part of him knew that if he actually witnessed someone else acting as stupidly smitten as he was right now, he would point and laugh at them... or maybe make a retching sound and laugh with his room mates. But from the other side of things, he found he was just too happy to care if he was acting like a loon. Well... that wasn't entirely true. He didn't care, so long as no one _saw_.

He knew that he and Draco were going to have to actually talk about what was going on with them at some point, but it would require a more secure level of privacy, plus he simply didn't want to break the spell, so to speak, that they both seemed to be blissfully riding in at the moment. There were all sorts of questions Harry had, that he knew he would eventually need answers to, and of course, Draco probably needed to know some things about him before...

Harry crushed the thought down with staggering brute force. It wasn't important really... well, it _was_ important that Draco know what he might be getting himself into, but it was also important that Harry keep the number of people who knew certain things about him to a minimum, and this thing with Draco was so new. As it was, there were already quite a few people back in Iledevol who knew certain very sensitive information about him, that he hardly even knew, and that didn't leave him entirely comfortable. But his grandfather trusted them, and seeing as how they specialized in all this soul stuff, it was necessary to divulge certain information if they wanted their help.

Harry knew, on some level, that there was a whole huge cloud of overly complicated potential problems with he and Draco being more than friends. Heck, there were probably quite a few potential problems for Draco with them just being _friends_, but so far, Draco had kept him rather ignorant to whether or not it had caused him any trouble.

But Harry had enjoyed his ignorance on the subject. He hadn't _wanted_ that complication. His friendship with Draco had been one of those blissfully uncomplicated things, in a sea of complications. He suspected that Draco realized that this was what he had needed, and it was one of the main reasons he'd kept things so easy for him.

It was like, on some level, he knew just what Harry needed most from him.

Harry realized he wanted to be that person for Draco to. The person who knew just what he needed, and could be there for him.

Harry and Draco's chuckles had died away, as had any conversation, and the two were just staring at their hands as the fingers played with the others. Slowly, they twined together, closing their palms against each other and bending their fingers around each others' fists. The warmth this seemed to send coursing up through Harry's arm, and all the way into his chest, where it seemed to spill out and begin to slowly fill him with tingly, giddy, comfort, was wonderful. Harry's breath hitched, but his smile only widened. His eyes darted upwards and met with Draco's, finding the blond looking at him with an almost awestruck expression in his sparkling silver eyes.

A wave of Draco's glorious scent seemed to burst all around him, and Harry felt his head go a bit fuzzy, and that wonderful, tingly-warm curling in his gut, and the stirring of his groin begin to appear again. Harry's breath was suddenly shallow and he found his eyes fixed onto Draco's pale pink lips that were slightly parted as he breathed in small barely-there pants. Draco's tongue darted out to wet his lips and Harry felt himself grow harder, and fill with the beginnings of real desire.

Could he kiss Draco?

Was it too soon? Shouldn't they talk about this first?

He wanted to kiss him.

He wanted to do something _more_ than kiss him. But he had no idea what. He was woefully ignorant of these things, and he suddenly realized that he wanted to correct that deficiency as soon as possible. Draco probably wasn't nearly as unaware of this stuff as Harry was. Harry would look like a complete idiot if he admitted that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, or what two blokes could do... okay, well that wasn't entirely true. There were a few things he could definitely imagine that two blokes could do together.

He cut that thought off as his erection twitched and his eyes refocused on Draco's lips, then up on his eyes.

He was so brilliant to look at. And his hair looked so soft. Harry wanted to touch it, but he didn't want to remove his hand from Draco's. It was so warm and comfortable there. He was –

The spell broke suddenly with the sound of the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office sliding loudly out of the way, revealing a stone archway, and a revolving spiral staircase.

Both boy's seemed to let out small gasps and jumped apart several inches, dropping their linked hands.

The warmth in his chest that had been slowly building and growing in strength left him with a staggering whoosh, causing him to nearly choke with shock. He hadn't even really realized something was happening until it suddenly stopped and vanished. Harry noticed that Draco looked rather dazed as well, and his scent had suddenly receded back to more normal levels.

Harry had a moment of dawning realization that this probably _meant_ something, and just maybe, he should take the time to look into it. Maybe he'd ask his grandfather while he was here, about it.

The sound of foot steps echoing down the stone steps while the grinding sound of stone-on-stone caused by the spinning spiral stairs broke through the otherwise silent hall and Harry took the moment to try and pull himself back together. A moment later and his grandfather was appearing at the base of the stairs, smiling right at him.

Harry's face broke into a huge smile and he hurried over and let his grandfather pull him into an embrace. Greetings were quickly exchanged between them and Harry expressed how grateful he was that Luc had been willing to come out on such short notice, even though he hadn't been told what this was about.

Lucas, of course, insisted it was nothing and Harry shouldn't ever give things like this any worry because he was there for Harry when Harry needed him – no matter what. He'd promised.

Then his eyes drifted over Harry's shoulder to the boy standing beside the wall, patiently. Harry turned, and couldn't help the soft smile that graced his face when he looked at Draco before he looked back at his grandfather.

"This is Draco Malfoy," Harry said quickly as he turned and pulled his grandfather over so he was standing right in front of Draco. "I've told you about him –"

Lucas chuckled slightly at this. "Oh, you've definitely told me about him. I'm not sure I could find a single letter you've written me for the last two months that didn't mention him at least once or twice."

Harry flushed and ducked his head bashfully.

Draco smirked over at Harry before focusing on Lucas and extending his hand.

"It's a pleasure and an honor to formally meet you, Marquis Conseil," Draco said in a dignified manner with a slight incline of his head.

"Oh, none of that now," Lucas said with a chuckle as he accepted Draco's hand and shook it firmly. "Luc is fine with me. You've been a good friend to Harry when he needed it most. You've more than earned the right to some familiarity with me."

Draco's cheeks pinked slightly and Harry could tell that he was pleased, although he was trying to keep his expression mostly aloof. "Thank you, sir," Draco said softer. "I wanted to thank you for your assistance in arranging for Master Espicier to come and tutor me this last summer. He was a tremendous help to me, and I know I never would have found him if it weren't for your suggestion."

"No problem at all. I'm just glad I could help."

The three ended up slowly walking down the mostly deserted corridors while they chatted about how their classes were going, and how the general atmosphere of the school had changed in reaction to Harry after the first task.

Lucas brought up the dance and Harry told him more details about his plan to use the portkey to come home on Christmas eve, as soon as he could get away from the dance, but that McGonagall said she would need official approval from Harry's guardian before she could approve such a thing. Lucas said that he'd make sure to mention it when they had their meeting that evening.

It was about this point that Harry realized he really couldn't avoid the real topic behind the visit any longer and looked over at Draco hesitantly. Harry was about to open his mouth to ask Draco if he could maybe give them some time on their own, when the blond seemed to beat him to it. Draco spoke up, saying that he really needed to get back to the dungeons, and apologizing for having to disappear on them. Harry gave him a very grateful smile.

Draco thanked Lucas again, and farewells went all around before the Slytherin headed off and disappeared down a distant corridor.

Harry watched him go, feeling the growing fear and worry in his gut, knowing that he was about to come out to his grandfather, and there really weren't any more distractions that could delay the inevitable. He kept reminding himself that he _knew _his grandfather would be fine with it, but that didn't make it any easier.

Harry ended up leading Luc to one of the many unused rooms in the castle. It was the same one that he'd often trained in with Draco and Hermione, in prep for the first task. Harry liked it because it didn't have a single magical portrait in it, and the clutter of broken desks and chairs that existed in the room were all fairly neatly stacked in the back along one wall, leaving an otherwise open space.

When they got inside, Harry locked the door and cast an imperturbable charm on the door for privacy before pulling in a breath of courage and facing his grandfather. Lucas was giving him a soft smile. A rather _knowing_ smile, at that, and Harry wondered just how successful Sirius had been at _not_ telling Lucas what this whole thing was really about.

Lucas pulled out his wand and summoned two of the simple wooden students chairs to them before transfiguring them into two rather squashy and comfortable looking arm chairs, placed opposite each other. They each took seats and Harry fiddled with the hem of his robe sleeve nervously for a moment.

"You know that whatever it is, Harry, it's not going to change how I feel about you," Lucas said simply after a moment of awkward silence had passed uninterrupted.

Harry sighed and nodded his head. "Yeah, I know," he whispered, "but that doesn't make it not hard."

Lucas chuckled. "No, I suppose it wouldn't."

"Do you already know?" Harry asked weakly.

"Sirius refused to tell me what this was about," Lucas said, but hesitated. "However... given that I'm also supposed to speak with your head of house, and Sirius can't seem to hide anything from your mémé or aunts, who seem convinced that they know something..." he trailed off.

"So... you _think_ you know what this is about?" Harry asked, almost hoping he could just get his grandfather to be the one to say it, so he wouldn't have to. Why was this harder? He'd told Sirius like it was nothing. He'd told _Hermione_, like it was nothing. And he really had no reason to feel sure that both of them would react well to it. Why was _this_ so hard?"

"Harry, I think that you're going to have to be the one to say it," Lucas said gently as he reached over and placed his hand on Harry's knee.

Harry let out a gush of hair and chuckled weakly. "Yeah... I guess I should. Right. Well... I er... I just recently sort of figured out something that I guess I was in oblivious denial of before. I mean, looking back I really should have noticed it sooner, but I think I just didn't _want_ to see it – you know? Or I convinced myself that it was normal, or it was nothing, or..."

"Harry –" Lucas said gently, and Harry stopped rambling and realized that he was breathing rather heavily.

Harry paused to calm himself down. He closed his eyes for a moment before letting out a slow calming breath and smiling hesitantly at his grandfather. "I'm gay," he said simply.

Lucas smiled reassuringly and gave Harry's knee a squeeze. "I'm glad you've come to terms with it Harry, and I'm glad you've finally decided to come to me about it."

Harry let out a weak laugh and shook his head. "You'd already figured it out, hadn't you?"

"Your mémé was the one who told me her suspicions, but once she'd actually brought it up, all those letters about Draco took on a whole knew meaning and I suspected she was right."

Harry flushed pink and ducked his head slightly. "You could – er... I mean... what exactly do you mean by that?" Harry floundered, looking back up at his grandfather in confusion. "I mean, I didn't start really going on and on about Draco until the tournament... did I?"

"Well, it's been rather obvious that your crush has grown considerably this term, but there were clues even as far back as last fall."

"What? Really?" Harry asked, skeptically.

Lucas chuckled. "Well, I'd say the clues from last fall are more in regards to young Draco's reaction _to you_."

"You mean, how he suddenly stopped picking fights with me?" Harry asked.

Lucas hummed and nodded his head. "I suspect that the two of you have very compatible Allures. But that is just speculation based on what I've read in your letters."

Harry blanched slightly. "But our Allures aren't even active yet!"

"Just because they're not active yet, does not mean that they aren't there. It's a part of who you are, Harry, and even while dormant, it's still there to some extent, and your instincts can still tell when you're near someone who is compatible. Are you aware, Harry, that when two young Veela with high compatibility, but who have not yet reached their physical maturity, spend a great deal of time near each other, it tends to drive their Allure to activate early? And usually in sync, as well."

Harry's eyes widened and he felt almost horrified by the mere thought. "No... I didn't know that," Harry squeaked.

Lucas nodded sagely and hummed. "Yes, when I told your grandmother my suspicions that you and the other Veela boy here at Hogwarts might be compatible, it only increased her worry and insistence that we speak with your head of house as soon as possible about making preparations for when your Allure activates. Compatible allures draw each other out, quite strongly. If you and Draco really are compatible, I wouldn't be surprised if the both of you reach your maturity, not only in this school year, but at virtually the same time. If your teachers aren't prepared, it will be quite a headache for all concerned. I don't think they quite know what they're getting into here. Hogwarts just doesn't deal with Veela often enough to be prepared."

Harry nodded his head numbly, still trying to process what his grandfather had told him.

Finally he forced his mind to unlock and spoke. "What makes you think that Draco and I are compatible?" he asked.

"Well... honestly, I think that Draco might be more strongly compatible with you, than you was with him. Or at least, he's had a stronger pull to you in the beginning, than you have in return – I suspect it's balancing out more now though. We also have to take into account that Draco was not exposed to _any_ other Veela, while you were living in the Veela Nation the whole summer between your second and third years, so you did at least have exposure to others with varied Allures. The fact that Draco had likely never been exposed to _any_ Allure before, let alone one of another boy who shared his inclinations, meant that his instincts likely reacted quite strongly to coming across you. Your still-buried Allure called to him strongly enough that on some level, he felt compelled to change his behavior towards you.

"You see, Harry – when one Veela is very strongly compatible with another Veela, but that second Veela isn't quite so strongly drawn to the first, it's quite common for the first Veela to feel the need to _change_ themselves, just enough, to make them more suitable for the potential mate they've found themselves drawn to. I suspect, from what you said about Draco's quite sudden and inexplicable shift in personality and actions towards you, that this is what happened to him.

"Now, if there's no chance at all of you reciprocating the compatibility, his instincts wouldn't react, or would retreat rather quickly and try to find someone else who was a better match. There had to be some push back from you – some indication that you could come to be strongly compatible with him as well – before his instincts would start trying to pull him towards you so strongly. Inside, he would always have had the potential to be the sort of person you needed, he simply wasn't presenting himself to you the proper way before. It was merely a matter of changing his approach to you, and not so much about fundamentally changing who he was. It wouldn't work out if he had to change his very self to become what you needed. Our Allures just don't work that way."

Harry nodded mutely and blinked a few times. He was fairly sure that he'd skimmed over a few of those points in the book that his tutor had told him to read last summer, but at the time, it hadn't seemed all that important to try and make sense of it all or really read the _whole thing_.

"So... so Draco is being sort of _compelled_ by Veela instincts to be nicer to me?" Harry asked, feeling rather horrified by the idea.

"Yes and no. More no than yes, at this point, I would suspect. It's more of a gentle nudge in the right direction. A quiet voice that says 'he'd react much better if you did this, instead of that'. It's up to Draco, whether or not he wants you to 'react better' enough, to bother changing his actions to suit. It was probably stronger in the beginning, but it's been more than a year since he first changed his attitude towards you. That's been more than enough time for him to decide all on his own, whether or not to allow those instincts to keep pushing him forward. He has to _want_ this, or else it wouldn't have gone on for so long. Do you... Have you gotten the impression that he is actually attracted to you, or does it seem like things are still just a friendship between the two of you?" Lucas asked gently.

Harry flushed, and couldn't help the small smile that found its way onto his face as he ducked his head and nodded.

"We just... just last night, actually. We um... admitted things, I guess. In a sort of round-about way. And today we've been sort of... flirting, I guess? More openly, flirting. Touching hands and stuff. It's stupid little things, really. But..."

"What does it feel like?"

"Hmm?"

"When you touch hands. And how is his scent affecting you?"

Harry gaped for a moment before sitting up straighter. "It's so strong!" he exclaimed. "When we touch, or we're just really close, it seems to get even stronger. It makes me feel dizzy, but it's..."

"Nice?" Lucas offered with a grin.

Harry grinned and nodded while looking at his shoes. "Yeah. Nice. _Really_ nice."

Lucas chuckled and gave a knowing sort of hum.

"And when we touch, I feel all tingly in my chest. Earlier it felt almost like my chest was going to burst at one point. But then we stopped touching, and it was like I just deflated all of a sudden, and it was really extreme. The contrast – I wasn't expecting that. It looked like Draco was pretty thrown off too." Harry hesitated a moment. "What _is_ that?"

Lucas was frowning and looked quite thoughtful at this. "You may be closer to your Allure activating than I'd thought..." he murmured thoughtfully.

Harry's face paled with horror.

"Huh?" he squeaked.

"Your Allures are pulling to each other, Harry. They're trying to draw each other out. I suspect, that is what the feeling in your chest is."

"How do I stop it?" Harry asked in horror.

Lucas gave him a small, almost pitying chuckle. "There really is nothing you can do, Harry. I think it's far too late to even delay it now. Even if the two of you isolated yourselves from each other, I don't think it would make a difference. The process has already been started, and gotten quite far, too."

"How long do you think we have?" Harry asked.

"I can't say for sure. A few weeks. Maybe a month or two at the latest."

"I'm not so sure it'll take that long..." Harry mumbled miserably, sinking into his chair. "It felt like I was just moments away from something huge happening earlier..."

"How often have you felt that way?"

"Huh? Oh well... I guess it was... like maybe a couple times before. This was the first time it was _really_ strong though."

Lucas hummed and nodded his head. "I stand by what I said. A few weeks, to a month or two."

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise.

"That last bit is the toughest part, and it resists the longest."

Harry nodded, not really sure if he should feel relieved or not.

"Well... maybe it'll happen while I'm on Christmas break," Harry mumbled with a sigh. "At least then, I'll have a bit of time to try and get used to it, or something."

Lucas hummed and nodded again. "That would be convenient. Although I imagine Draco would have a hard time, on his own, without you if that were to happen. Do you know what he's doing for the holidays?"

Harry frowned and shook his head. "I don't... I know he's going to the dance, but I don't know if he's staying at Hogwarts for the rest of the holiday, or if he's going home on the 26th when the Hogwarts Express goes to London."

"Well, you are welcome to extend an invitation for him to come to our home."

Harry's eyes lit up for a brief moment before they clouded over again. "I rather doubt his family would be okay with that."

"Hmm... and despite everything, I would not honestly feel comfortable keeping his location secret from his parents," Lucas said, almost apologetically. "I would insist on informing his parents, should he come to stay with us."

Harry heaved a defeated sigh and sank even further into the squashy chair.

The two sat in silence for a moment before Lucas shifted forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and giving Harry a soft smile. "It'll be okay, Harry. I know it seems daunting right now, and we all know you've got more than enough on your shoulders right now without piling on one more thing like this but..." Lucas hesitated, as if searching for the right words, "this may be a blessing in disguise," he finally settled on and gave Harry a reassuring smile.

Harry gave him a rather skeptical look. "How so?"

"Well... how do you feel about Draco? It seems to me that you're quite smitten with him. Just watching the two of you together earlier, it was clear that you're strongly drawn to each other, and from what you said earlier..."

"I... I really like him," Harry admitted with a small smile.

Lucas hummed. "I think that the two of you will form a very strong bond from all of this, honestly. When two compatible Veela go through their maturity transition together, it often forms a very strong tie between them. Of course, it's still possible for things to not work out between the two of you, and you could go on to date and look around for years to come before you finally find someone you want to settle down with but... well, I've never actually seen it work out that way, personally. I've known a number of Veela who managed to become close with a compatible match before maturity, and drew out each others Allures. They –"

"They always ended up together? For the long run?" Harry finished questioningly, in a near whisper of a voice.

Lucas nodded. "Yes. They tend to have the strongest bonds I've seen, too. You're uncle Crestien knew Elodie from primary school. They went to Beauxbatons together, and they transitioned the very same day, just after Crestien had turned fifteen, and just before Elodie did. They were insuperable and married straight out of school. I couldn't have been more happy for them. Crestien went through a lot of stressful events his last year of schooling, and I was eternally thankful that Elodie was right there by his side, when he needed someone the most. I would like to hope that maybe Draco can be that person for you; now, when _you_ need someone the most."

Harry nodded slowly, looking, unfocused, down at his lap. "I want to be there for him too," Harry said, quietly. "I want to be what he needs too. He's... it's like he just _knows_ what I need, when I need it. He's been so great..."

"And you will be. If that's what you want, I'm sure you'll be able to be that person for him too," Lucas said in a gentle, reassuring tone.

Harry looked up with a small, grateful smile.

They talked for some time longer after that about less heavy subjects. Lucas told Harry about what progress he'd been making with Sirius' case, and Harry was immediately attentive, because he hadn't heard much of anything about it in what felt like ages. Sirius didn't like to talk about it too much, and it was too sensitive to discuss via owl post.

The British Ministry was trying to keep it all very hushed up, and they had encountered a lot of brick walls from the start. Once it became obvious that the Veela royal family was giving Sirius sanctuary and backing his case, the Ministry had sent quite a few demands to the Veela Nation that Sirius Black be sent back to Britain to receive the kiss. Of course, they had refused. At the same time, the Ministry didn't want it to get out to the public that any of this was going on because it might shine light on some of the horrible mishandling and utter failure of justice that had passed.

However, Lucas had recently gotten a few people within the Ministry who were fighting with the internal corruption, to be aware of the truth of what had happened, and things were finally starting to move along – albeit, slowly.

Lucas told him that they were considering going public with some of the information soon, if the bureaucrats in the Ministry continued to drag their feet too much longer. Nothing like a nice scandal in the Prophet to set a fire under politician's arses.

The discussion did eventually come full circle, and Harry asked his grandfather how he thought the rest of the family would react when they found out he was gay. Lucas assured him that it would be fine, and as he already knew, his aunts all already suspected it, and were just waiting for Harry to be ready to confirm it.

Harry finally just gave in and told Lucas that he could tell them all that they were right, but asked that he be the one to tell Alexis, in person, when he got there for the holidays. Lucas told him not to worry – that his cousins wouldn't even bat an eyelash at it, and Harry gave him a small, grateful grin.

They did eventually leave the isolated classroom, and walked the grounds a bit. Not much though, since it was cold, but Harry did show his grandfather Madame Maxime's winged horses, and introduce him to Hagrid.

When it came time for dinner, Harry wasn't sure what to do, but Luc informed him that Dumbledore had invited him to eat with the professors at the Head Table. Harry sat in his usual spot at the Gryffindor table. Lucas greeted Fleur and they exchanged a few brief pleasantries. Luc greeted Hermione and Ron as well, and Harry noticed that his grandfather was a bit cold to Ron, but still polite. Then he left them to their meal and went up to the Head Table where he sat between McGonagall and Snape.

Harry nervously glanced up at the table throughout the meal, and watched warily as his grandfather conversed with the two teachers. He couldn't help but wonder what the hell they were talking about, and was exceedingly relieved when he seemed to be talking to Snape more than McGonagall. That thought was squashed by the sudden wonder as to what the holy hell he could be talking with _Snape _about. He was granted a reprieve when Lucas stood up, seemed to bid the professors goodbye and walked over to Harry. He asked if Harry was done, to which Harry instantly stood up and said yes, he was.

They left the Great Hall and began to walk the halls in order to pass some time. There was still a half hour till the meeting with McGonagall was scheduled.

"What were you talking about with Snape?" Harry asked, when his curiosity could be abated no longer.

"Hmm? Oh, Lily," Lucas replied easily.

Harry stopped mid-step and blinked up at his grandfather in surprise.

"My mum?"

"Mm, yes. You do know that Professor Snape and your mother grew up in the same town, don't you?"

Harry's jaw floundered, but he paused in thought. "I think Draco said something along those lines once, but... well, I didn't know for sure if it was true."

"They both grew up in Cokeworth, a large town that hit hard times when it's local mill closed down. Lily and her family moved there when she was six, I believe. Lily was just down the street from Professor Snape, on Spinner's End."

"Oh..." Harry said in a quiet voice, not really sure what else to say. "So... what did you talk about... specifically?" Harry questioned warily.

"Oh, just ancient history, I suppose. Professor Snape and I share one thing in common, in a way."

"What?" Harry asked, with mild incredulity.

Lucas looked down and gave Harry a sad sort of smile. "We both cared about her a great deal, but still managed to say something stupid and anger Lily enough that she stopped speaking to us."

Once again, Harry was left not knowing what to say... so he simply said nothing. They walked in silence for a minute before Harry changed the subject and started leading Lucas towards McGonagall's office. By the time they got there, it was seven o'clock. Harry felt his nerves surge as his grandfather knocked on the door and they were called in by his head of house.

McGonagall was seated at her desk and there were two very proper-looking stiff-backed chairs sitting opposite the desk and Harry and his grandfather quickly sat themselves after the initial greetings were done.

"Alright, Marquis Conseil, seeing as how you were the one who requested the meeting, perhaps you would like to begin things?" McGonagall said primly.

"Cutting straight to things. I appreciate that," Lucas said with a smile. "I'm afraid what I have come to discuss with you today is a matter of some importance, and very well may be a problem that will need to be dealt with sooner rather than later, as we had originally expected."

"Problem? What problem is that?"

"Harry's Allure. I have reason to believe that it may be activating sometime during the next month – two at the most."

She frowned, but didn't look too phased. "Well, it's good that you warn me, but I'm not sure what exactly we can do to 'deal' with this at the moment."

Lucas hesitated and glanced over at Harry questioningly. Harry let a small sigh out, closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and giving his grandfather a small nod. They had discussed this earlier, and Harry had decided that he would rather let his grandfather hold the reigns in this whole conversation. The less he had to say, the better, as far as he was concerned.

Lucas turned back and refocused on McGonagall. "Tell me, Professor... what do you know about how a Veela's Allure effects witches and wizards?"

She opened her mouth for a moment before hesitating. Her expression showed the slightest hint of embarrassment before she spoke. "I'll admit that I don't know much. I've witnessed people around Veela when they're Allure is active, and it's fairly clear how easy it is for a person to lose all sense of dignity and make complete fools of themselves."

Lucas chuckled slightly and nodded his head. "That is true. But surely you've noticed how generally only wizards seem to lose their senses around female Veela, while only witches seem to lose their senses around male Veela? Do you know why?"

She hesitated. "I could guess," she said slowly, but looked skeptical.

"You would probably guess wrong. It depends entirely upon the Veela's preferences. You see, if a Veela woman, is attracted to only men, then only wizards will react to her Allure. It doesn't matter if any of those men might be homosexual – he would still react, because the Veela's Allure deems him an appropriate target and he's drawn in, just like all of the other men. The witch or wizard's preference plays no part in the reaction. It is entirely based on which gender the Veela prefers. Do you understand so far?"

McGonagall nodded slowly.

"This means, of course, if you have a male Veela that prefers other men, only wizards will react to his Allure. Even if those wizards are normally straight as a rod. Beauxbatons gets enough Veela that they actually have a policy to deal with situations like these when they arise, however, seeing as how Hogwarts sees so very few Veela, I rather suspect that you _don't._ Am I right?"

"As far as I'm aware, we do not. What sort of policy is it that you're speaking of, exactly?"

"If a Veela boy, who is gay, comes into his maturity and his Allure activates, the other boys with whom he shares a room will feel irrationally and powerfully attracted to him until he is able to get a hold on his control. Additionally, when a Veela is still learning, it is extremely easy to lose that control while sleeping. As such, it is very unwise for a young Veela, who is gay, to share a room with wizards. Beauxbaton's policy is to move any such Veela into private quarters."

Dawning understanding was slowing shining in McGonagall's eyes and her eyes darted over to Harry questioningly. He flushed in embarrassment and ducked his head.

"Am I to assume that you are telling me all of this because Mr. Potter is...?" she said, trailing off in question at the end.

"Yes," Lucas said simply.

"I see," she said simply and sat a bit straighter.

"Will Hogwarts be able to accommodate with private sleeping quarters when his Allure activates?" Lucas asked seriously.

McGonagall looked thoughtful but nodded her head slowly. "Given the unique circumstances I believe that such an arrangement can be made. How long will this be necessary, do you suspect?"

"There are cases at Beauxbatons where the Veela in question never gains control enough for it to be safe for them to return to communal sleeping quarters with witches or wizards, but it depends entirely upon Harry's progress in his control, _and_ how comfortable the other boys are with having him there. If there is any risk in Harry being harassed by his roommates for his preference, I would rather he not have to return there."

"Papy!" Harry objected. "I can deal with it if any of them are weirded out," Harry argued. "Not everyone always gets along with their roommates. Hermione still doesn't get on with Lavender or Parvati, but you don't see her asking for a private room."

Lucas sighed but gave Harry a conceding nod. "Fine, Harry, it is your prerogative." He turned back to McGonagall. "I believe we also needed to discuss this ball that is going to be keeping Harry here for an extra week longer into his holidays."

"Yes, Mr. Potter mentioned something about having a portkey that he was hoping to use to leave the school right after the dance."

"That's correct. It is an International Portkey and was issued two summers ago and is registered with the Veela Nation and the French Ministry. It can only be activated by him and will take him directly to my home. He has my permission to use it the night of the twenty-fourth."

McGonagall nodded. "In that case, I will be expecting him to be gone by Christmas morning."

The meeting was concluded shortly after that. Lucas thanked Professor McGonagall for her help and her time and the pair left her office. Harry walked in silence with his grandfather at his side as they made their way through the halls back towards the Headmaster's office.

Harry heaved a sigh and Lucas came to a complete stop, giving him a concerned look.

"Harry, it's obvious that something is weighing heavily on your mind. Would you like to talk about it?"

Harry grumbled slightly and shrugged. "I just... I hate that I've basically got no choice but to come out soon. I don't even have the _option_ to just keep it private. My Allure is going to basically broadcast it, no matter what I want."

Lucas sighed and gave Harry a remorseful nod. "I am sorry, Harry. The more quickly you can gain a strong control over your Allure, the less time there will be when it is glaringly obvious to the general populace – and of course, not everyone is going to fully understand what it means – but even after you have a strong control, males in general will always find themselves drawn to you to some extent."

Harry groaned and nodded. "And it's always going to weird them out as soon as they're out of range and the Allure isn't pulling at them anymore. That really sucks, you know?"

"If they are strongly averse to being attracted to you, a strictly controlled Allure won't effect them. Witches, in general, find themselves attracted to me on some level in every-day encounters just because they find themselves attracted to me, not specifically because my Allure is strongly affecting them. Veela, as we are, are simply attractive to humans. Completely non-magically induced attraction will always be there. There are no doubt plenty of girls here at your school who find themselves attracted to you already, and it is obviously not because of your Allure.

Harry grimaced, but shrugged.

They resumed walking, and before Harry knew it, they'd reached the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. Harry hugged his grandfather briefly before sighing and saying goodbye. Lucas wished him luck and reiterated that he if needed anything, to contact him and he'd be on it right away. Finally, Lucas gave the password and returned to the Headmaster's office to use the floo, while Harry left, to head to Gryffindor Tower.

– – –

Thursday morning dawned, and Harry found himself laying in bed, shuttered behind his bed hangings, and going over all the recent revelations in his head while he listened to the sounds of his dorm mates getting ready for breakfast. He knew he needed to be joining them soon, but his body felt warm and comfortably heavy, and he just couldn't quite find the will power necessary to move.

Today he had both Runes and Care of Magical Creatures with Draco, and he was looking forward to that, but he wasn't sure how he felt about the coming evening when he was supposed to go to the Beauxbaton's common room again. Normally, he would probably be looking forward to that, a great deal, he suspected, but the prospect of learning to _dance_ left him rather nervous.

He was both excited and very anxious to get some dancing instruction from Draco, but how was that going to work, exactly? It's not like they were the only Hogwarts Students who would be in the Beauxbaton's common room, and even if they were, there were still the Beauxbatons students themselves, and no guarantee that they wouldn't talk to other people about what they'd seen.

It was true that they could insist that the dancing lessons were purely a friendly gesture, but really... people weren't stupid, and how often did two straight guys ballroom dance together? Even just as 'friends'?

But then Harry couldn't help but wonder if there was really any point at all in trying to keep his preference a secret, seeing as how it was probably going to be outed against his will in a month or so anyway. He'd worry about keeping it a secret for Draco's sake, but Draco was going to be facing the very same problem as him, and probably at the very same time.

Harry realized suddenly that he still hadn't talked with Draco about his stance on being 'out', or whether he considered it an option or whatever. Draco was from one of those old pure-blood families, and they had etiquette and rules about keeping your sexuality private... how was this going to effect him? Harry really did need to sit down ant talk with Draco about these things.

It was so easy to just have comfortable and casual talks with Draco, but that also meant it was equally easy to avoid those more deep and unfortunately necessary talks.

Harry finally heaved a resigned sigh and forced himself out of bed. He went through his morning routine, and met up with Hermione in the common room where they waited briefly for Ron to show up before heading down for breakfast.

Again, Harry found himself making eyes across the Great Hall at Draco, who gave him subtle smiles in return. Harry worked his way through his morning classes and then lunch without anything out of the ordinary happening. After lunch was Runes again and they continued with carving practice – this time writing out long strings of runes in a more confined space, so neatness and precision was more important.

As the day before, Harry and Draco sat next to each other with their thighs pressed warmly against each other. Small innocent-seeming touches were common, although this time Harry kept his hand above the table.

Harry had so many things he wanted to say to Draco – not just the heavy questions he knew they needed to address, but other things as well; all of which were a bit too sensitive to be discussed in class. So he resigned himself to keeping to the more classroom-safe topics, and tried to assure himself that he could talk more later.

Afterwards, they walked together, along with Hermione out of the grounds to the paddock their Care of Magical Creatures class was in that day. They encountered Ron on the way, and he walked on the other side of Hermione, talking loudly to her and Harry while appearing to pretend Draco was invisible. They got to the area on the grounds where the rest of the class was gathering and Ron tried to draw Harry in by telling him a story about Seamus managing to blow up his crystal ball in Divination, but Harry could only feign interest for so long before he made an excuse and drifted back to Draco.

Hagrid came out from the stable with an excited gleam in his eye and called them all into the paddock so they could get a closer look at the creature they'd be studying that day. The creature they came up on was rather unusual, and Harry found he had absolutely no idea what it was. Hagrid informed them it was called an 'imodo', and that they were quite rare and usually found around New Zealand. It looked like someone had taken an iguana, made it six feet in length, and covered it in long fluffy fur. It's body was shaped like a lizard with it's legs splayed at it's sides and a very long tail, but instead of scales, it was covered in thick, long, brown fur. Even it's face was furry – although that hair was much shorter – of course that didn't mean it was _cute_. It was still rather frightful to look at, honestly, and it had a mouth full of very very sharp looking teeth.

As they were instructed to get into groups of five and collect around one of the large imodos in the pens, Harry couldn't help but find himself missing the sowls. They had definitely been a lot cuter.

"Hey Dray?" Harry said in a quiet tone just a few minutes short of the end of class. Draco looked up from where he was crouched over the sleeping not-lizard creature and gave Harry a questioning look.

"Um... I was wondering if you'd um... well, have you ever been in the school's kitchens?"

Draco looked at him as if he were momentarily questioning Harry's sanity. "No..." he said slowly.

"Well, I know where they are and I've gone in there a few times so I could have a meal with a bit more privacy, you know? And I was thinking that maybe you and I could skip out on dinner in the Great Hall and instead meet up in the kitchen and... eat... there," He finished somewhat lamely, blushing and shrugging.

Dawning flashed in Draco's silver eyes and he grinned. "Yeah, I think I could do that. It is rather _plebeian_ to eat in the kitchen, but I'm willing to endure."

Harry snickered quietly. "Thanks for putting up with my silly whims," he said jokingly.

– –

"It's this way," Harry said, jerking his head down a stairwell that exited off of the corridor from the Great Hall.

"Aren't the Hufflepuff dorms down this way?" Draco asked as he followed Harry down the stairs and then down the warmly dim corridor.

"Yeah, I think so, but I've never been down there myself." Harry came to a stop in front of a large framed painting of a bowl of fruit. "It's here."

"Is there a password?"

"No, but there _is_ a trick to it," Harry said, grinning over his shoulder at Draco before he reached out and tickled the pear in the painting. The pear _giggled_ and then seemed to pop out of the painting, becoming a doorknob. He pulled the painting-door forward and gestured widely with his hand for Draco to enter.

Draco rolled his eyes mildly, but grinned despite himself and quickly stepped in through the hole in the wall behind the painting.

"So how did you find this place?" Draco asked as he looked around the bustlingly busy room with closely concealed curiosity.

"Sirius told me about it," Harry said easily with a shrug as he closed the door and walked past Draco to a low table with benches that sat against the far wall opposite the ovens and work tables that were currently being attended to by a small army of house elves.

Draco eyed the rather short table for a moment before looking at Harry, now seating himself on the ridiculously small chairs as if he were mad if he honestly expected Draco to do the same. Harry just grinned up at him cheekily. Draco growled in annoyance before maneuvering himself into the seat beside Harry and glaring at him balefully the whole time.

"You'd think this table was set up for five-year-olds," Draco grumbled.

"No. Just house elves," Harry said, still smirking.

Draco gave him a flat look that said he was not amused but quickly huffed out a breath and let it go. "If you honestly expect me to join you for private meals in the future, Potter, I expect better standards than this," he said dryly, but ended it by giving Harry a small grin and looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "It was the best I could do with such short notice."

"So what inspired this, anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "Just wanted a chance to spend some time with you without an audience," Harry admitted ducking his head bashfully.

"What do you call them?" Draco asked arching a brow and jerking his chin back towards the elves still bustling around the other end of the large kitchens.

"Er... well," Harry said with an apologetic grimace, "it's as close to 'without an audience' as I could manage, alright?"

Draco snickered. One of the elves picked that moment to hustle over, snapping her fingers and levitating several platters of food onto the table and asking them if they needed anything else in an excited squeak. Harry told her that no, this would be fine for now, but thanks. She beamed and left with a bounce in her step.

They both set to setting food from the platters onto their individual plates, and once that was done, Harry took a moment to pull out his wand a cast a small area privacy charm that would prevent their words from being overheard by anyone beyond the small table, and act as a sort of low-powered notice-me-not. They both started eating, and they remained mostly silent for the first few minutes, outside of quiet requests to pass this, or that.

"So how did your meeting with McGonagall go?" Draco asked.

Harry grimaced and sighed. "Well enough, I suppose. I mean, we got done what we needed to, I just hate that I had no choice but to tell _McGonagall_ of all people. Although, admittedly, my grandfather did almost all of the talking. I just sort of sat there and tried not to die of embarrassment."

Draco chuckled quietly.

"Um... about that..." Harry started hesitantly after a moment, "does Snape know?"

"Well, he knows I'm veela and he knows about my preference, but I rather doubt he's fully realized just what that will mean when my Allure activates. I'm not sure if he knows about how a Veela's preference determines who is effected by the Allure, and not the witch or wizard's preference. That seems to be one of those points that a lot of people don't understand about Veela."

Harry's eyes widened slightly but he nodded slowly. "So... so Snape knows that your Veela and he knows that you um..."

"That I prefer blokes?" Draco asked with an amused smirk.

Harry ducked his head slightly, but looked up through his fringe and grinned sheepishly. The grin died a moment later to be replaced with a thoughtful expression. "Does he know... about well... you and me?"

"Well, as far as I know, he doesn't know about your preference, unless you've given him some specific reason to notice it. And as far as I'm aware, he doesn't suspect that you and I are anything more than just friends..." he trailed off and looked at Harry cautiously out of the corner of his eyes.

"But we are... right?" Harry asked quietly, looking over at Draco with a mix of hope and trepidation. "I mean... _more?_"

Draco looked over at Harry through his pale curled eyelashes and gave him a small playful grin before letting his hand slide over brush his fingers over the top of Harry's hand before covering it with his whole hand and giving Harry's a small squeeze. "If that's what you want," he whispered, smiling coyly.

"Is it what _you_ want?" Harry whispered back before smirking. "After all, a Malfoy always gets what he wants, right?"

Draco's grin widened. "That is true," he said with an amused drawl. He chuckled, gave Harry's hand one last squeeze before returning his hand to his fork and taking another bite of food from his plate.

Harry followed suit and mulled over several questions in his mind, building up the nerve to ask them. "So who else knows about you? Other than Snape?" Harry asked finally.

"Oh... well, Pansy knows. Blaise knows... I'm fairly sure that Theo knows it too, although I've never specifically _told_ him as much. My parents both know, of course, and –"

"You're parents know?" Harry said, caught by surprise, for some reason.

"Of course. I told mother back when I was only eleven or twelve, and of course, she told father right away, since it would have such an effect on any future arrangements he would have made for me and the family..." Draco trailed off frowning. His eyes shifted away and seemed to unfocus on a distant wall as he scowled rather darkly. "Of course I used to be comfortable with the idea of just letting him handle it all, and trust that he'd consult me on any of the really important decisions. Of course, I've realized that was a rather naive stance."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked with cautious worry.

Draco turned his attention back to Harry and blinked once before he chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry Harry, I forget that you probably don't know anything about matters of this sort. I've... well, I guess I've grown up knowing that someday I'll _have_ to marry a witch, no matter what preferences I hold. I'm the only male heir of the Malfoy family left in Britain. Had I actually preferred women, then my parents would have probably allowed me to find a girl on my own, court her and such without too much interference from them – so long as she met certain standards that they set – family connections, magical power, and blood-purity, of course. But given my preference, the whole matter became much more of a business deal, and I had given my father control over the details, since I trusted that I would be consulted and given veto power should the girl be a complete moron.

"Anyway, the plan was that my father would eventually find a family that was looking for a similarly beneficial political and powerful alliance, and I would be wed to the chosen girl with the expectation that I would support her and keep her comfortable, and she would provide me with the necessary heir and not protest when I held other liaisons of my preference on the side."

Harry was staring at Draco with carefully concealed horror, his face pale and slackened, but he tried to swallow down the bile that he felt rising in his throat and remain calm.

Draco seemed to pick up on Harry's distress because his hand came back over and grabbed hold of Harry's. "But that's all changed now," he said in a quiet, reassuring voice. Harry looked at him questioningly.

Draco looked away and chuckled bitterly. "My father, it seems, cares more for keeping the Malfoy name _pure_ and _untainted_ than for his own son's rights and magic. My father could forgive me my preference in gender, so long as I keep it quiet from the public eye and don't cause a scandal. My _impurities - that come from him -_ however, are another matter, it would seem," Draco growled.

He sat up a bit straighter, looking proper and cold, with anger bubbling just under the surface. He looked over at Harry and his featured softened slightly. "I recently discovered that my father has been making plans to perform a ritual this coming summer. Much like that disgusting binding that Dumbledore placed on you as a child, this one would completely suppress all of my Veela magic; denying me access to any of it, and preventing my Allure from ever activating, thus saving the Malfoy family from the awful _scandal_ that my father no doubt fears if word ever gets out about our 'tainted' blood.

"Of course, just like the binding that held you, it would effect my normal magic as well. Apparently my father doesn't care if his one and only heir becomes magically crippled, so long as the family name never gets tainted with the disgusted whispers of _creature_ blood," Draco sneered, glaring angrily down at the table.

"That's horrible!" Harry exclaimed. "He can't do that!"

"No he can't! Because I won't let him," Draco growled. "He never even consulted me on any of this either. He's just been making all of these life-altering plans behind my back, assuming that I'll just go along with it. But I won't. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and I think I've finally come to a decision."

Harry sat forward a bit closer to Draco and looked at him expectantly.

"Nothing I'm willing to do will ever actually please him," Draco said with cold finality. "I'm not giving up my Veela side, and that's all there is to it. And when my Allure activates, there really is going to be no point in trying to hide what I am. I've seen how people react to other Veela, even when that Veela is an expert at shielding and controlling their Allure. And also because of my Allure, hiding my preferences will be impossible as well. All it will take is one person who actually _knows_ how a Veela's Allure works to work it out."

Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall back and stare up at the ceiling.

"There was a time when I would have panicked at the prospect of having my blood-status and preferences become public knowledge beyond my control – and I mean _completely freak out_. And the only reason I would have panicked is because of my fear of angering and disappointing my _father_. But you know what?" Draco paused and looked over at Harry.

Harry just blinked at him with blank confusion.

"_Fuck. Him_," Draco ground out through clenched teeth. "My father can go to hell for all I care! And this got me thinking. It's all going to come out eventually anyway, and no matter _what_, my father is going to be furious, but why am I even bothering to keep it quiet at this point? I mean, I'm not about to go out of my way right this minute to let people find out, but the way I look at it, my best insurance to make sure I don't end up with my magic bound is to make sure the truth comes out into the public light before summer. I don't know how far my father would be willing to go to try and protect the family name, but if everyone finds out before I go home for summer, there's nothing he can do. The cat will already be out of the bag, so to speak."

Harry felt himself pale. "Do you think he'd really try to force you into binding your magic?" he asked in an almost panic.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Draco said bitterly. "Of course, he'd convince himself that he was doing it _for my own good._ That he was just protecting my future and all that, but it's _my life_, and it's _my decision to make!"_ Draco was still clearly angry, but he seemed to deflate a bit after that, sinking forward in his chair in a bit of a sulk.

"I've been sort of testing the waters with my mother," he said quietly after a few silent minutes passed between them where Harry just had no idea what to say. "I've been writing to her – small things, you know. Keeping it subtle, but..." he hesitated and looked over at Harry worriedly. "I've sort of been giving her little impressions that I found someone that I like."

Harry's eyes widened at this. "You have? And... well, okay, so they know about your preference so I guess that wouldn't freak her out... or does it?"

Draco grinned slightly and rolled his eyes. "My mother doesn't 'freak out', Harry. Not like that anyway. But she's been... cautiously encouraging, I suppose. Of course she expects me to be discreet about it, so when things do eventually _come out_, she'll be a bit ruffled, but..." he trailed off for a moment, looking thoughtful before sighing and shrugging. "I think I can rely on mother to support me against father in the end, no matter how bad things get. I have to admit that there is a part of me that worries he would try to disown me if I angered him too badly, but I'm his only heir so I doubt he'd do anything that extreme."

They fell into quiet again for a few minutes; their food completely forgotten by this time. Harry's brow was furrowed deeply and his mind was a melting pot of swirling emotions. Finally he spoke. "Dray... how long have you been keeping all of this bottled up? I had no idea that you were going through any of this," he asked weakly.

Draco looked away and shrugged.

"You've had more than enough on your plate, Harry," he said simply.

Harry shook his head fervently. "Not so much that you can't come to me with the things that are bothering you!" Harry insisted. "You've been so incredible for me the last month and a half. You were there for me like no one else was. You've been exactly what I needed, when I needed it, and I can't tell you how much that's meant to me. But... but I want to be that for _you too_. How am I supposed to do that if you keep it all hidden from me?" he ended in a whisper.

Draco turned his head and looked at Harry with surprised, wide silver-gray eyes.

"Harry..." Draco said softly.

"I'm sorry I'm bad at _seeing_ the things around me," Harry said apologetically, cutting in. "I think I'm a bit dense or my observation skills are just shite, but I'm _working on that_. But you're also really good with all your masks and keeping things private, so I've just got no chance at all in picking up on these things. I... I had _no idea_ that something this big was bothering you. I feel awful about that. What kind of friend am I when I don't even realize –"

"Harry, no," Draco cut in shaking his head. "I just needed time to work it out for myself. I wouldn't expect you to be able to read me right now anyway. I mean, no matter what the sorting hat supposedly said back in first year, you're the quintessential Gryffindor. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and so do all your friends. Granger's the most complicated person you deal with regularly, but she's still a Gryffindor; all up front and honest. And she's a _girl_, so I doubt you even _try_ to understand what's going on in her head. You're just not used to dealing with Slytherins. I get that. I don't blame you for not noticing that something's been bothering me. I didn't want anyone to notice, so no one did."

"I still should have noticed," Harry said, frowning deeply and shaking his head. "I want, so badly, to be the person that helps you, like you've been helping me. I just... I..." Harry shook his head, simply not knowing _what_ he wanted to say, but wishing he did. Some part of him felt simply awful. Like he'd failed at his half of the friendship bargain.

"Hey," Draco said in a soft, reassuring voice as he leaned in close to Harry and his hands came up to rest on Harry's shoulders. "It's okay, Harry. Really."

"Please let me in," Harry said in an almost pleading voice. "I... I want to..." Harry found his head shaking side to side, lost again for words, but feeling so full of emotion that he was just too overwhelmed to make sense of anything.

Draco's right hand came up and cupped the side of Harry's face and Harry felt his eyelids grow heavy and close for a moment as he leaned his head into the wonderful touch. He opened his eyes to find Draco's face shockingly, but wonderfully close, and those bright silver eyes connected to his, boring deep into him.

"Okay," Draco whispered. "I will. I promise."

And Harry's eyes found themselves pulled from Draco's eyes and instead focused down onto his lips as the breathy words passed through them. They were so close. And Draco's scent was all encompassing. Draco was his whole world, with one strong hand on his shoulder and the other still gently cradling his cheek. Harry's hands came up to mirror the position because he could and he wanted to touch Draco too, only he succumbed to his desires and the hand didn't linger on Draco's cheek long but instead found itself threading into the hair on the back of the blond's head.

It was just as soft as he'd imagined. He thought he might have dreamed of running his hands through Draco's hair at some point.

Draco's eyes closed in contentment and he tilted his head a little into Harry's affectionate touch as he ran his fingers along the Slytherin's scalp. Draco's eyes opened back up and their gaze met again. For one brief moment, they just held it; peering into each other and drinking in each others' presences.

Harry leaned in without even giving the action a second thought and the next thing he knew his lips were pressed against Draco's, who seemed to have met him half way.

Harry's eyes fell closed and he just basked in the sensation of soft moist lips, pressed gently against his own, and the powerful, swirling fragrance that was all Draco, that seemed to be wrapping him up in a warm, comfortable blanket. Tighter and tighter, warmer and warmer. Curling around and and tickling at him from every angle. Making him light-headed and giddy, and setting his belly aflame suddenly with that delightful twisting of pleasure, and the quickly growing arousal in his groin.

Draco was the first to part his lips, and Harry let out a small pleased gasp at the feel of the other boy's silken tongue pressing hesitantly against his lips. Feeling emboldened by his own light-headedness, Harry's lips parted eagerly, and the two boys' heads turned slightly as they each instinctively found themselves clumsily searching for greater depth and more contact.

Draco's hand had found it's way into Harry's hair at some point while his hand was now gripping Harry's shoulder like he was his life line. Some distracted bit of Harry's mind realized he wasn't much different in that area, as his own hand wrapped around Draco's back a bit and bunched into the hood of the bond's robes while the other pulled at Draco's hair to bring them closer together, as if that were even possible.

The sound of chairs scuffling across hard stone floor echoed through the din around them as the two unconsciously tried shifting in their attempts to get closer to each other. The kiss was slowly growing more heated as tongues began to dance, and that fire in Harry's belly began to burn like a stoked engine. It was growing, and there was that intense sensation in his chest again – the one that felt like he was being inflated, or climbing, or maybe _racing_ towards something, and he was _almost there_, and it was going to be _so good_ when he got there. He just knew it. Because he was going there with Draco and that's all he wanted.

Draco let out a muffled moan, and seemed to buck slightly in his awkwardly turned position on the chair, as if he were fighting the urge to get up out of the chair in order to get even _closer, _but Harry couldn't imagine why he would _fight_ getting closer, because he wanted it so badly. He wanted to touch more of Draco. Just _more_. More of that soft shiny hair; more of that perfect smooth skin, and he wanted to taste more of Draco's mouth, because it was like his scent had been compounded into a flavor, and it was the _best flavor ever._

He wondered suddenly if the rest of Draco tasted that good, and it just so happened that moment was the same one where Draco pulled back, gasping for air as if he'd just breached the surface of a lake after being submerged forever. Harry, pulled in a deep breath too, but it only intensified his sudden need to know what Draco tasted like, and as if by some deep instinct, he latched onto Draco's neck, just below his jawbone and began to lave the skin with licks and messy open mouth kisses.

Draco gasped again, mere seconds after the first, but it just as quickly shifted into a needy moan as Draco bared his neck for more and groaned out Harry's name.

Harry felt his cock twitch violently at the sound of Draco moaning his name, and it somehow seemed to be enough to wake up some part of his brain that seemed to have been screaming all along _'too fast!'_ and he pulled back, panting heavily and dazed.

Another part of him mourned the lost of his lips on Draco's beautiful milky column of a neck, and he had to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a moment to force down the desire to just dive right back in, and tell the little voice that was panicking about moving 'too fast' to just sod off.

Harry's eyes hesitantly, and questioningly met with Draco's then. The blond was panting just as heavily as Harry was, and his hair was tousled and messy, but still _looked glorious_, his eyes were bright, if a bit dilated, his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were swollen and red, and looked so damn kissable. A hesitant grin spread across the blond's kissable lips then, followed by a small exhilarated _giggle_ – although, Draco would of course deny this to his dying day – before he ducked his head a bit and hesitantly looked back up at Harry through his pale eyelashes.

Harry giggled right back, and at this point he felt so damn giddy he wouldn't even bother to deny it. He was still frightfully aroused, and it was a battle not to just lean right back in and kiss the Slytherin opposite him some more, but none of that mattered in comparison to how stupidly happy he felt at that moment.

The two of them laughed nervously some more as they both shuffled slightly in order to get themselves and their chairs back in order. Each shooting the other giddy little sideways glances, every few seconds.

Harry cleared his thought, and was suddenly reminded of something he'd been meaning to tell Draco all day.

"Oh, there was something I wanted to tell you," Harry said as Draco seemed to pull a fine toothed comb out of no where and begin to straighten his hair. Harry chuckled at the action, but Draco just gave him an expectant sort of look. "Right. Well, it's part of this talk I had with my grandfather yesterday. He... um... well he thinks that you and I could possible have compatible Allures. I didn't think that any of that could really effect you until _after_ the Allure had activated, but he says that it can, and –"

"You didn't know that?" Draco asked, looking mildly amused. "Even _I_ knew that, and I've only had one summer with a single Veela as a tutor. You've _lived _with them, how could you not know that?" Draco teased.

Harry gave him an unamused glare, before grinning sheepishly and shrugging. "Well, I did _skim_ the books that my tutor gave me on all the Allure stuff, but I assumed I'd have until I was fifteen before any of it really _mattered_."

Draco rolled his eyes. "So your grandfather thinks we're compatible? I take it this means you told him about us?"

"Is that okay?" Harry asked, suddenly worried.

Draco grinned and nodded. "I'm find with it," he said softly, and Harry beamed back.

"Yeah, I guess I told him. Mostly though, he just sort of figured it out on his own though. I mean, I didn't really _have_ to tell him anything, he just seemed to _know_. I... well, like he said yesterday, I guess I sort of mention you a lot when I write home," Harry admitted only slightly embarrassed.

Draco, looked rather pleased, if the smug look on his face was anything to go by. But if faded slightly. "My mother knows that you and I are friends. I haven't said anything to connect the dots between my friendship with Harry Potter and the boy I like, but I wouldn't be too surprised if she eventually made the connection on her own."

"Your mother knows that you and I are friends?" Harry echoed in surprise. "How does she feel about that?" he asked cautiously.

"She told me to be cautious, but that it could be a beneficial friendship from a political perspective. A friendship with the boy-who-lived could help some people forget about my father's 'supposed' Death Eater connections, and all that. You know how they are. I would never expect her to actually _understand_ it, but it was better than her trying to forbid it or anything. I know father must know as well, but I haven't heard anything from him yet." Draco sighed and gave a one-shoulder shrug.

Harry nodded, figuring it was probably as good as he could hope for, given who Draco's parents were.

"Right... but okay, what I was saying before about my grandfather?"

"Sorry, I pulled us off track. You were saying?"

"Yeah, so I guess you know that it's possible for Veela to be drawn to people they're compatible with, even before their Allure is active, but have you heard about what that does?"

Draco frowned. "No, what do you mean?"

"Well, my papy Luc told me that when two young Veela who are compatible spend a lot of time in close contact, that they sort of _pull_ each others' Allures out quicker. Apparently, the majority of the Veela whose Allure activated when they were fourteen, activated that early _because_ they were in close proximity to another Veela who they were compatible with. He... he thinks that from what I described about how it feels like when I... when I _touch_ you, and how your scent sort of effects me, that it means that's happening to us... right now. That we're pulling each others' Allure's out."

Draco's eyes widened considerably in shock before narrowing and shifting into a thoughtful expression. "Merlin..." he whispered quietly.

Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, it's kind of a lot. He said that he thinks our Allures could activate anywhere between the next three weeks and the next two months."

Draco's head shot up and his eyes widened once again. "That soon?"

Harry grimaced in slight apology and nodded. "I asked him if there was a way to stop it, or slow it down at least, and he said that at this point there wasn't really anything we could do. That even if we totally isolated ourselves from the other, it wouldn't really make a difference."

Draco slowly began to nod his head before his eyes went unfocused and he looked out across the table of cold food platters. "I suppose there really _is_ no reason left to try and hide it much longer," he said in a quiet voice before pausing and looking over at Harry hesitantly, "er, well, of course, if you want to try and keep it quiet until the last minute, I wouldn't do anything that would –"

"No... you're probably right," Harry said, looking rather ill, but knowing it was true. "I mean, I'm in no hurry... I'd still like to wait a _little_ while longer. I _hate_ the idea of being forced to come out earlier than I want. Or _at all_ really, because it should be private. It shouldn't _matter_, but I know that everyone is going to blow it up into something way bigger than it should be. I can see the headlines already. The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Gay or some such rubbish."

"And the field day they'd have if they knew about _us_," Draco added with a bitter laugh.

Harry looked over at Draco, feeling legitimately worried now. "Is it too much?" he asked fearfully. "You'll have so much to worry about already with your father and everything... I mean – Hermione just _hugged_ me and got howlers and hate mail with curses and bobutubor puss and –"

"Harry, just stop it right there," Draco said sharply, glaring at him. "I don't give a damn about that. I feel bad for _you_ if anything."

"No, I just _know_ that you're going to get accused of all sorts of rubbish," Harry insisted shaking his head. "Just like Ron who keeps insisting that you've got some secret, evil, ulterior motive for becoming my friend, only it'll be _worse_. People will probably start making up all sorts of rubbish, accusing you of using a love potion, or confunding me, or some other such rot. It's not right that you should have all that extra scrutiny on you. I mean, you could probably shrug off any attention or press you might get when it comes out that your Veela, and with your father's political power, I doubt that the gossip rags would even have the guts to print an article about your sexual preference when you're only fourteen, but if you're dating _The-Boy-Who-Lived_, all bets are off! They'll try to tear you apart! It's not right. I won't –"

"I – don't – care." Draco said firmly and slowly. "So stop worrying about it."

"But –"

"_No._ I don't care. I..." Draco hesitated and Harry noticed that the pale blond flushed a bit before recovering his composure. "I think your grandfather's right, Harry. About us being compatible, I mean. I've actually suspected it myself. I looked into it more recently, actually, and what I read sounded right. What I feel when I'm with you... I don't want to give that up for anything. I'm certainly not going to give up what _I want_, just because I might be afraid of a little bad press, or some stupid gossip mongers. If I'm not going to let my fear of_ my father's_ wrath hold me back from what I want, I'm certainly not going to let the threat of reporters do it. Okay?"

Harry stared up into Draco's eyes in something akin to awe. He swallowed the thick lump in his threat, grinned weakly and nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

– –

AN: I've got the next chapter started, but only about 7 pages written so far, and it has been stupidly difficult to find free time the last week. If that trend continues, it'll probably be like another week or two before I get the next chapter done and up.


	13. When there is Dancing and Shopping

AN: Okay, I've got to warn you guys that I haven't had a real chance to proofread this chapter. So sorry for any excess of weird errors or typos. I sort of rushed this one at the end because I'm leaving tomorrow morning to drive two and a half days straight to visit relatives half-way across the country. I'll be gone for 3 weeks, so don't expect any updates for a while.

– –

Chapter 13 – When there is Dancing and Shopping

The pair ended up walking together from the kitchens directly to the Beauxbatons Common Room since they'd taken quite a bit longer in the kitchens than one normally would for the evening meal. Harry had told Hermione what he was doing before dinner, and he hoped that she had managed to keep Ron placated or distracted enough that he wouldn't question Harry too hard when he finally got back to Gryffindor Tower later that night.

As it was, he honestly had no idea what he was going to tell Ron he'd done for dinner, and hoped he could find Hermione first and ask her what she might have told the ginger.

Harry was still feeling rather overwhelmed by everything that had transpired during his kitchen dinner with Draco as they settled into the same two-seater couch in the Beauxbatons Common Room that they'd sat in two days prior. Conversation struck up quickly enough, focusing mostly on the coming Hogsmeade trip that Saturday, since the Beauxbatons students hadn't had a chance to see it yet. During one early point when Fleur and her friends were excitedly chatting amongst themselves, Draco leaned over and quietly asked Harry if he'd join him for the trip again, and Harry couldn't help but grin and nod.

He mostly zoned out after that, basking silently in the warmth of Draco beside him, and the aroma of Draco's scent.

When his mind wandered to the _kiss_ they'd shared in the kitchen, he'd feel lightheaded and giddy again. When he thought about what Draco had said about not caring about the press, and about _wanting_ to be with Harry, he just wanted to curl into the blond's side and purr or something equally ridiculous. He still felt bad that Draco had been going through so much stress and worry about his father without having even realized that anything had been going on at all. Finally, he decided to commit himself to trying to be more observant of the other teen's needs and moods.

Before they'd just been 'friends', and while that didn't make Harry's lack of awareness forgivable, it still meant _something._ But now they were... _more_. Harry refused to let Draco be the only one doing the supporting in the... the _relationship_.

Thinking that made him feel somewhat giddy again, and he frequently caught himself fighting down a stupidly silly grin on his face, while he sat with Draco and the group of French students, chatting.

From the moment they sat down together on the couch, they'd been closer than was normal for two blokes who were 'just friends', but Harry rather doubted anyone would really notice or give it too much thought, and he loved the contact. Draco gave Harry a few subtle cautious and questioning looks throughout the night every time he made a move to touch Harry more openly, as if he were trying to gauge whether or not Harry was okay with it before doing it again.

While Harry was still extremely nervous about the inevitable storm, he also knew it _was_ inevitable, and Draco seemed so _pleased_ when Harry just smiled or gently nodded his head to permit Draco more contact, that he just couldn't say no.

There was only one other Gryffindor in the room, and she was across the room with another group... of course that didn't mean that the Ravenclaws or the Hufflepuffs wouldn't notice, and talk... but it _was_ inevitable, wasn't it? So... so maybe he just shouldn't worry about it? And it wasn't like they were really being all that obvious, even with what they were doing. Fleur's group of friends were the only ones who could really see them all that clearly, anyway.

About thirty minutes into the 'conversational English' tutoring, Harry felt Draco's hand cover his hand, and then Draco's fingers laced between his. His heart stopped for a moment, as panic swelled in his stomach. His eyes darted over to Fleur, sitting in one of the armchairs opposite them. Her eyes darted down to Harry and Draco's hands before coming back up to meet Harry's eyes. Then she grinned slyly, and Harry felt himself weekly grin back.

None of the other girls or the one boy seemed to make any move to openly acknowledge it, although Harry did catch a couple of the girls grinning to each other and giggling while conversation was distracted away from them.

Maybe Draco had the right idea. Maybe instead of making some sort of announcement – which, honestly? How weird would that be? – it was better to just _be natural_ around each other. Just... _not hide it_. Let people figure it out on their own, and then when they asked... answer whatever questions came up?

Harry was pulled from his thoughts when a bunch of the girls jumped up excitedly and Harry felt Draco standing beside him and pulling him up.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, almost dazedly.

Draco chuckled. "I knew you'd zoned out, but I didn't realize you'd zoned out _that badly._"

Harry pouted. "I was just thinking..."

Draco grinned fondly and turned to look at him, letting his fingers brush along Harry's hand, sending wonderful tingles up his arm and down his spine.

"We're dancing."

"Huh?" Harry blanched.

Draco laughed and began to pull Harry along to follow behind the group of laughing girls who appeared to be going through the room and rounding up several of the boys from the other groups. They then left the common room, much to Harry's surprise, and went down the hall a short distance to a classroom Harry had never had any classes in, but that looked recently used.

It turned out it was where some of the Beauxbaton's classes were held with their professor chaperones from France, and with a few quick wand waves, the desks and chairs were all sent neatly stacked against the walls, leaving a wide open space for dancing.

Someone came in with a music player of some sort and Harry just sort of stood there in a daze while everyone moved around him excitedly chatting and getting ready.

"Draco," Fleur said, coming over to the pair of them and grinning at Harry, "maybe you could 'elp teach Harry zhe basics, hmm?" she asked slyly. "Everyone else has partners already."

Draco chuckled knowingly. "I suppose it wouldn't be right to impose Harry's feet upon any of your delicate French toes."

She rolled her eyes, but still grinned.

And that was how Harry found himself stumbling around the room awkwardly while Draco moved with that outrageous grace of his, trying to teach Harry how to dance.

He felt a bit awkward at first, of course, and frequently glanced around the room nervously to check and see who was watching and what their reactions were. He was relieved that none of the other Hogwarts students had come with their group to this room, but that didn't stop the Beauxbaton's students from still watching them. And they did watch. Mostly the girls, though, and none of them looked _disgusted_. None of them even looked _surprised_, actually.

"Relax," Draco whispered into Harry's ear at one point, after leaning in especially close. The sensation of Draco's warm breath across the side of his face, combined with the general radiating warmth of their hands on each other and their nearness, finally broke through his barriers, and he actually did feel himself relax a bit. After that, it actually was quite wonderful, and – shock and awe – he really enjoyed it.

He did eventually dance with Fleur and then one of the other girls – for practice – they had all insisted, since Harry would be dancing with Fay at the ball. But most of the time spent in the cleared classroom was spent in Draco's arms, and it was stupid how wonderful it was.

Merlin, he was turning into a sentimental girl.

So much so, in fact, that he was legitimately disappointed when he heard the distant chimes in the bell tower, indicating curfew. The group quickly set to putting the desks to right again and made their way back to the Beauxbaton's common room entrance where they French students filed back inside, and Harry and Draco were left alone in the hall.

"Thanks for... you know... teaching me to dance," Harry said with a weak chuckle.

"Well, you definitely needed it," Draco teased. "But I would say you improved drastically throughout the lesson, so my efforts obviously paid off."

Harry grinned. "Well thanks. I really do appreciate it."

"I would certainly hope so. I don't exactly like being under appreciated. It is unfortunately common though," Draco drawled. "People are just blind to my full magnificence."

Harry laughed and gave Draco a shove in the side as they slowly walked down the hall, causing the blond to stumble slightly before he turned back to Harry and gave a haughty huff and tossed his head and short hair slightly in an exaggerated gesture that only set Harry to laughing more.

They walked with each other as far as they could together before coming to a stop on a landing between staircases.

"Oh shoot!" Harry said suddenly and Draco gave him a confused look. "I totally forgot to ask if any of the girls would be willing to go with Ron to the dance!"

Draco snorted and shook his head. "Why, exactly can't Weasley just ask one of them _himself?_ That's just pathetic that he needs _you_ to do it for him.. Not that I can imagine anyone willingly going to the ball with _him_, but does he really have to try and drag _you_ into his pathetic floundering attempts to date? Knowing him, now when he ends up without anyone to go with he's going to try and blame _you_ for his failure instead of himself."

Harry made to protest Draco's harsh diatribe, but any will to argue left him almost instantly and he sighed and grumbled. "Merlin, I hope not. He's going to be so annoyed that I forgot though. I think he was counting on it."

"Why don't you just tell him that you _did_ ask and they all said no?" Draco said with a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Because that wouldn't be true, would it? Besides, one of Fleur's friends might actually be willing to go with him."

"All of Fleur's friends are sixteen or seventeen, Harry. I rather doubt that. And even if there is the possibility, he should find out on his own by _asking them_ himself."

Harry sighed. "I guess. I just –"

Harry cut himself off as the sounds of distant footsteps began to quietly echo into their range of hearing.

"Shit. That might be Filch," Draco whispered.

"Damn. Okay, I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning in Potions," Harry whispered back quickly.

Draco's grin returned and he nodded.

Just before Harry was about to turn around to leave, Draco leaned in and gave Harry a chaste kiss on the lips that ended up lingering a bit longer that initially intended.

They pulled apart slowly and Harry found himself staring into Draco's eyes feeling that wonderful heady fog and the warm curling in his gut stirring to life again. He sighed happily before ducking his head to hide some of his ridiculous grin.

"See you tomorrow," Draco whispered taking a few steps backwards before spinning on his heel and quickly and quietly making his way down the stairs.

Harry stood and watched him until he disappeared around the bottom of the next landing before he turned and made his way up the stairs he stood by. He managed to avoid running into anyone on patrol and entered Gryffindor Common Room with yet another stupidly goofy grin on his face, and no desire to try and squash it.

– –

Friday was just another day to Harry. He got to be with Draco in Potions, but being _Potions_ also meant that there wasn't exactly a lot of room for conversation outside of classwork. Harry didn't share any meals with Draco that day, but came to the conclusion that he wanted to arrange for another lunch or dinner meeting for the following week – perhaps with a bit more planning this time, than his spur of the moment 'eat in the kitchens' plan from the day prior.

There was also no meeting in the Beauxbaton's Common Room that night, so he simply followed Ron and Hermione back up to Gryffindor Tower after dinner and sank into his favorite seat near the fireplace with a small resigned sigh. At least he didn't have any homework, per se. Today had been the last day of term, and while there had been homework assigned for the holiday break, he had three weeks before any of it was due and he was in no hurry to get started on it now.

Hermione was not of the same mindset, however, as she was apparently working on something for Charms within minutes of the group of them sitting down. Ron gave her an almost disgusted sort of grimace before shaking his head and rolling his eyes in exasperation. Then he turned his full attention on Harry and grinned.

"So Dean told me that they're letting those of us who are staying for the Ball go down to Hogsmeade tomorrow when those going home head to the train."

Harry blinked and nodded slowly. "Er, yeah. It's been posted on the bulletin board since last weekend.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Guess I missed that. So when do you want to head out in the morning?"

"Uhm... well, I've planned on going down for breakfast at nine and then heading into Hogsmeade at half passed but er... well, I'm going down with Draco for most of it."

Ron blanched before scowling. "What? Harry, you can't be serious!"

"Well, I'm not planning on being with him the _entire_ time. We're going to split up for an hour or two after lunch so that we can do any holiday shopping without the other seeing what we're getting, so I guess we could hang out during that time."

"How can you make plans go to to Hogsmeade with _him!_"

Harry glared at Ron. "We've had this discussion before _Ron,_" Harry said rather coldly. "Besides, Draco asked me yesterday, and it's not like you, Hermione, and I have made plans. We haven't even _discussed_ it, so I saw no reason to say no."

"I didn't even _know_ about it!"

"It's been on the bulletin board for _a week_ Ron. It's not my fault you didn't notice."

"Well, I know now. Just tell Malfoy that there was some mix up and you're gonna go with us now."

"No, Ron!"

"But you'd rather go there with _us_ than with _him!_ Just because you said you'd go with him yesterday doesn't mean you have to actually _stick to it_. Just come with us –"

"I said _no!_ Ron, I _want_ to go with Draco to Hogsmeade. I'm not changing my mind!" Harry snapped.

Ron just gaped at Harry with stunned confusion. Hermione was looking up at the two of them with cautious worry.

"I don't get you Harry! How can you _stand_ him?" Ron said, looking totally bewildered more than angry.

"Oh, I don't know Ron," Harry sneered sarcastically, "maybe because I've actually bothered to get to _know_ him? He's a prat to you because you're a prat to him. Neither one of you actually _sees_ the other one because you're too blinded by your old hatred. I let that go and got to know the _real_ Draco, and it just so happens, I really like him."

Ron guffawed and sneered right back. "Oh yeah? Well do you like him more than me?"

"Don't do this Ron," Harry said coldly.

"Don't do what?" Ron snapped.

"Don't assume you can make me choose between the two of you."

"Well, what if I did? What if I don't want to be friends with someone whose too blind to see what a nasty little ferret-faced git Malfoy is?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and he glared at Ron angrily. "Then I guess we're not friends anymore," he said coldly.

Ron's face went slack and he stared at Harry in shock. "You'd pick _him_ over me?" he asked in a hoarse, incredulous voice.

Harry simply continued to glare angrily at the red-head.

"We've been friends since we were eleven! We've been through all sorts of crazy adventures and things. You'd pick _Malfoy_, over me?"

"Those years of friendship and adventures didn't seem to matter much to you when you decided to be a jealous prat and drop me like a ton of rocks after my name came out of that ruddy goblet!" Harry snapped back.

Ron's face continued to be pale and stunned for all of two seconds longer before it went red and he scowled angrily. "He's turned you against me! This is all Malfoy's faul –"

"Not it's not, Ron! It's _your_ fault!" Harry snarled angrily, standing to his feet and clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. Ron raised to his feet just as quickly and stood his ground. "You've been a shitty friend, Ron. That's all there is to it and you should damn well know it. It's _your _fault and no one elses! You were the one that decided your own wounded ego and insecurity was more important that standing by a friend when he needed you most. You were the one who avoided me like the plague and gave me nasty glares and snide remarks for an _entire month_ while I was being treated like a pariah by thred-quarters of the school, and some kind of stupid ruddy hero for _getting away with cheating_ by the rest. Hell, Ron, you're bloody _brother_ was with those dragons out in the forest, and I know there's no way that Charlie would be at Hogwarts and you wouldn't know about it. You probably knew about the dragons before even _I_ did. Where were you then, huh? What kind of friend were you _then_?"

Ron gaped like a fish and looked as if Harry had just struck him with his fist.

Harry bent down, violently grabbed his rucksack from the floor and stormed away, weaving around the students who were standing around watching in dumbstruck shock before jogging up the stairs to his dorm.

Ron stood as if frozen in place for several stunned moments longer while the hushed murmurs and whispering around him began to grow into a loud din.

"What did you do?" an accusing voice snapped Ron out of his stupor and he looked up to find Ginny standing with her fists on her hips, and Fred and George flanking just behind her.

"Whut?"

"What did you say to Harry that made him go off on you like that?" she asked again, still sounding _very_ accusing.

Ron went red in the face and scowled at them. "How come you just straight up assume it's _my _fault! I didn't do anything!" he defended.

A quiet scoff could be heard from behind him and he turned a betrayed glare at Hermione, who simply cocked a single eyebrow at him in response.

"What'd he do?" George asked, directing the question to Hermione instead.

She looked conflicted for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. "He told Harry he had to choose between Ron and Malfoy. Ron said he wouldn't be friends with someone who would be friends with Malfoy."

"He did what?" Fred said incredulously.

"Are you barking mad! George said, looking at Ron as if he had lost his mind.

"You can't ask a mate to pick between you and a love interest Ronnie. It's just not cool," Fred said.

"And you'll lose, every time," George added, nodding sagely to his brother, who nodded sagely back.

"What?" Ron said, looking entirely confused.

Ginny's face was confused for all of half a second before it went slack and she turned to her older twin brothers with a burrowed brow. "What's what supposed to mean?"

"Shhh! Shush shush shush! Not here!" Hermione squawked waving her hands as them as she rushed forward and grabbed the twins by the shoulders and dragged them towards the portrait hole with Ron and Ginny trailing quickly after.

When Hermione looked back at the two identical red-heads she was dragging, they were grinning with obvious amusement at her antics. She just huffed in frustration and finished dragging the group to an isolated alcove not far from the Gryffindor Common Room entrance that had no paintings near it.

A few frustrated jabs of Hermione's wand and a small area privacy ward was established. She turned her glare on the twins. "How do you know?"

"Are you saying it's true?" Ginny whispered, looking on the verge of tears. Hermione gave her an apologetic grimace but turned her glare back on the twins.

"What's true? What's going on here?" Ron barked out in frustration.

Fred and George both shrugged helplessly. "We didn't know it was a secret," Fred said.

"But how do you _know?_" Hermione persisted in almost desperation.

"Er... well, a few things I guess," Fred said, smirking over at his brother.

"Yeah, we sort of walked in on the two of them snogging in the kitchen the other day," said George.

"It was really hot," Fred added.

"Fred!" George gave an affronted laughed.

"Whut? Fred said, grinning unapologetically. George just snickered and rolled his eyes before continuing. "We left as soon as we walked in. I mean, no one wants an audience for that sort of thing. Figured they'd probably freak out about getting caught, you know?"

"But Sandra said she saw the two of them flirting like crazy during those English lessons in the Beauxbatons common room," Fred said with a helpless shrug. "We figured if they were doing _that_ in public, then maybe they weren't keeping it a secret."

"She said they even ran off with a group of the Beauxbatons students for 'dancing lessons' and apparently Harry and Malfoy spent the whole thing together, dancing. Or at least, that's what one of the Beauxbatons boys told her later. She's going to the dance with him so they hang out," George added.

"B-but, but Harry's going to the dance with Fay!" Ron spluttered weakly.

Ginny snorted bitterly. "The _lesbian_? Doesn't that tell you something, Ron?"

Ron blanched and looked at her with wide, horrified eyes.

"You guys can't tell _anyone!"_ Hermione broke in, firmly.

"You knew!" Ron accused suddenly, turning his attention back to her.

"Honestly, Ronnie," George cut in.

"We'd assumed that if anyone knew about Harry fancying blokes, it'd be you, since your his best mate."

"Or well... you used to be."

Ron's face turned from Fred to George with pale shock and disbelief for several seconds before turning back to Hermione rather helplessly. "Harry's really gay?"

Hermione sighed and nodded her head. "You can't tell _anyone_!" she hissed again. "I don't think Harry's ready for it to come out yet. Just think what that awful Rita Skeeter will do with a story like this?"

"Well, he's not doing all that good of a job of keeping it secret," Fred warned cautiously.

Hermione sighed and nodded. "I'll talk to him. Can you maybe talk to – who was it that told you again?"

"Sandra Carter. She's in our year," George answered.

"Right. Can you ask her if she's told many other people yet? And ask her if she'd keep it quiet?"

The twins shrugged and nodded.

"Thanks."

"Herm..." Ron began but hesitated, looking very overwhelmed, "is Harry... is he, I mean... does he really fancy Malfoy?"

Hermione sighed in frustration. "_Yes_, Ron. He does. And Malfoy fancies him back, apparently. I... well, I think they're dating, but I'm not really sure if they've labeled it as such yet. But then again, I didn't know they'd kissed yet. I can't believe he didn't tell me that."

"I can't believe he didn't tell me any of this at all!" Ron exclaimed, looking confused and hurt.

Hermione huffed. "Well, how could you expect him to tell you, with how awful you've been about this whole thing? You just can't see past your own prejudices to even _try_ to get to know what Draco is really like. He's been really nice to me, this year, Ron. I mean, I know he was a git in the past, but he was a child and he's grown up since then. He's been perfectly polite to me, and he's even complimented me a few times while we were working together for things."

Ron scowled. "How can you be so sure it's not just an act? I mean, how can you all trust that he hasn't – hasn't _done_ something to Harry? He probably used a love potion to –"

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione snapped harshly, cutting him off. "Don't you even _dare_ suggest something like that when Harry's around, because I can guarantee you that he'll hex your arse right off!"

Ron's eyes nearly bugged out. Ginny looked rather shocked too, and the Twins, while surprised, also looked entirely too proud.

"You cussed!" Ron croaked.

"I don't care! You have _no idea_ how much Harry has come to care about Draco! And the reason you don't know is because you _abandoned_ your _best friend_ for a whole month, and then when you finally found the courage to come clean and admit _you were wrong_, you assumed that one half-arsed apology would be enough to make up for your pig-headed stupidity. Well, it's not that easy, Ronald! Harry has been your friend for _years_. He's stood by you and defended you. He went after your sister," here, Hermione motioned towards Ginny,"down into the _Chamber of Secrets_, and fought off a giant monstrous Basilisk!"

"She's right, Ronnie," Fred said, nodding and giving Ron a firm glare.

"Yeah, sounds to me like you've been a pretty rotten friend. I mean, I don't exactly interact with him very often, but from what I've observed, it looks like Malfoy _has _improved all around since last year. He's not even picking on the firsties this year." George added.

"If you really care about Harry, you should try _trusting him_ for once and actually _listen!_ He and I have both been telling you that Malfoy isn't who you think he is, for ages now. He's not his father, Ron. He's his own person and deserves to be judged on his own merits. I don't know why you're so insistent on holding this grudge when it's obviously hurting Harry to be forced between the two of you like this. Hell, Ron, it might already be too late for you to make this up to Harry after that ridiculously _stupid_ stunt you pulled in the common room!" Hermione scolded, angrily.

"B-but... but, _Malfoy!"_

"_Ron!"_ Hermione growled and Ron threw his hands up into the air.

"Fine! Alright! But I just don't get how he can fancy that pompous berk! How can he pick that git over _me_, who he's been friends with for years?"

"Oh, I don't know, Ron," Ginny said, sarcastically, rolling her eyes, "maybe because Malfoy is ridiculously hot, and he's apparently being really _nice_ to Harry, while you've been a stupid git."

"Ew!" Ron said, scrunching up his face in disgust.

"Humm, Malfoy _is_ hot," Fred said, nodding sagely, while George just shrugged.

"Ew, ew!" Ron yelled, making a gagging sort of noise.

"Ronald, _grow up._" Hermione huffed before making another sharp gesture with her wand and canceling the wards. "I'm going to go talk to Harry and let him know that you lot know. Please, _please_, don't tell anyone else."

"We won't, Hermione," Ginny said, giving her a sad, resigned sort of smile. Hermione gave her that apologetic little grimace again to which Ginny just shook her head and shrugged sadly.

Fred and George nodded their heads before each putting a hand on Ron's shoulders. "And we'll have a chat with Ron here."

"You know a privacy ward?" Hermione insisted more than asked.

"Of course. Who do you think you're talking to?" George retorted, looking comically insulted.

Hermione shook her head, sighed and left.

– –

"They know?" Harry whispered feeling a mixture of horror and resignation settle into his gut.

Hermione signed and nodded. "Fred and George said that they walked into the kitchens the other day and caught you and Draco kissing."

"They saw that?" Harry blanched, and felt his face flush with heat.

"Apparently," Hermione said before giving him an amused little smirk. "You never said you kissed!"

Harry ducked his head, but couldn't hide the grin that had materialized on his lips. "Yeah. During our uhm... dinner, in the kitchen, and then another little one Thursday night."

"_Well?"_

Harry laughed. "When did you become such a girl?"

"I've _always_ been a girl, Harry, but I've never had any girl-friends, I've got two _boys_ for friends, and that sort of effects how I can act around you guys."

"Oh, but now I'm your 'gay boy-friend', so it's okay to act more girly?" Harry asked, not sure if he should be slightly offended, or just laugh.

Hermione just gave him an exasperated eyeroll before giving him a pointed look.

"Fine. Fine. It was... it was incredible," Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. "All we did was kiss for maybe half a minute, really, and then we stopped, but it was still amazing."

Hermione gave a happy sigh and leaned against the post of Harry's bed that was behind her.

Harry's sappy grin persisted for a minute longer before it slowly melted off his face and his brows furrowed. "So... so Ron knows now."

Hermione grimaced and nodded.

"And the Twins and Ginny."

She nodded again.

"How... how'd they react?" he asked, cringing in anticipation.

"Er... well, Ron didn't seem to have much reaction at all to finding out that you're _gay_. Mostly he seemed to be a bit pre-occupied with the idea of you being with _Draco_."

Harry scoffed bitterly. "Of course."

"The twins didn't seem to have any problem with it at all. In fact... You know, I almost think that Fred might be gay too... but maybe I'm just reading too much into things."

"Whuh? You think Fred's gay?" Harry blinked at her in surprise. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, he said it was, uhm... _hot_ watching you and Draco kiss, sooo..."

Harry flushed bright red and his eyes went wide. "Oh."

"Ginny seemed pretty disappointed, but she didn't seem _upset_ other than that."

"Disappointed?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Well, yeah. I mean, she's had a crush on you since she was, like, six, right?. She just found out that she really truly has_ no chance_, so it makes sense that she'd be a _bit_ disappointed."

Harry spluttered. "What? No! I mean... I guess Ron did say she had a crush on _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ growing up, but she knows me now! She knows better than –"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "_Harry_, she _never_ got over her crush. I suppose you're right that when she was a little girl she had a crush on 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', but after she actually met you, the crush just transferred over to _Harry_. You saving her from the Basilisk really only cemented what was already there."

Harry's jaw floundered and he sat there speechless for a moment before shaking his head and giving a resigned sigh. "Well, I guess it's better she know, then. I mean, that would be really weird, even I were straight. She's more like... like one of my younger cousins, or something. You know? She's like _family_. Or... well, that's how I always saw her, I guess. Like how you're like my sister, or best girl-friend, I guess. I don't think I could date you even if I were straight. It'd just be too weird."

Hermione gave him a soft, amused smile. "I'm touched, Harry. Thank you."

Harry just mumbled uncomfortably and shrugged while looking down into his lap.

They were quiet for a moment longer before Hermione turned her gaze back on him. "What are you going to do if Sandra Carter has told a lot more people than just the twins?" she asked hesitantly.

Harry turned his unfocused gaze across the room and shrugged. "It's inevitable, Hermione. We're not going to go broadcasting it or anything, but I'm not going to try and fight it if it gets out now. We haven't got long now anyway."

"What do you mean by that?" she frowned in confusion.

Harry blinked and looked at her with a small confused frown for a moment before some sort of realization seemed to dawn in his eyes. "Ooh... right. I still haven't... er... okay, I guess I've got something I need to tell you," he said, giving her a sheepish sort of grimace.

Hermione sat up straighter and turned more towards him, frowning slightly. "What is it?"

"Er... okay, I guess this is sort of a long story but... well, Draco is Veela."

Hermione's eyes went wide as galleons and Harry quickly set into telling her about Draco's Veela heritage, how Lucius Malfoy's was recessive while Draco's Veela traits turned out to be dominant. How Harry and Draco had been able to identify each other as Veela back at the start of third year, and how they were probably compatible, even though their Allure's weren't active yet, which explained Draco's sudden shift in how he approached Harry – or in the case of most of last year, how he _avoided_ Harry.

He told Hermione what is grandfather had told him about compatible Allure's drawing each other out the more time the young Veela spent together, and how he suspected Harry and Draco's Allures would probably activate during the next month or two.

Then he reminded her about how it was a Veela's inclinations that determined who was attracted to them, not the witch or wizard's preferences, and as such, only _boys_ would find themselves drawn in by Harry and Draco's Allures once they activated, and once that happened, it would be impossible to hide their preferences from the world.

He also told her very briefly about how Draco had recently discovered some things that had made him angry enough with his father that he had decided _not_ to to go any lengths to try and keep the truth of his nature and preference under wraps as his father would prefer. He didn't go into too much detail because Draco had told him that in confidence and Harry didn't think he should really repeat it.

This all managed to remind Hermione what Harry had said on the train ride on September first about Harry having helped Draco 'circumvent' his father, so she inquired about _that_ and Harry told her about helping Draco get a Veela tutor under the guise of a private runes teacher, for the previous summer.

Their conversation was drawn to a conclusion, not by finding a good stopping point, but by Seamus and Dean coming up to the room to go to bed. Harry bid Hermione goodbye for the night and she headed out, with Seamus turning and giving Harry a leering sort of smirk, coupled with bobbing his eyebrows suggestively. Harry huffed and rolled his eyes, ignoring his Irish roommate completely. Harry got ready for bed quickly because he simply didn't want to have to deal with Ron at all either and feared he would probably be coming up for bed soon.

Harry drew his hangings closed when he was finally ready for sleep and buried himself into his pillows and blankets trying not to let his mind linger too much on the tumultuous events of the evening, and instead look forward to his day in Hogsmeade the following day with Draco. He wasn't necessarily looking forward to the dancing lessons on Sunday, but the knowledge that there were no classes the following week to keep him away from Draco was the final straw and Harry was able to go to sleep with a smile on his lips.

– –

The following morning Harry escaped his dorm room before Ron could even consider stirring – especially considering it was a weekend – and made his way down to the Great Hall. When he got there, there was only a spattering of students here and there, and Harry's eyes instantly fell upon Draco's where he sat at the Slytherin table with Pansy and a blond girl that Harry knew was named Greengrass, but whom he'd never really spoke to before.

Pansy and Greengrass were chatting easily but Pansy seemed to notice that Harry and Draco were locked in silent staring from across the hall because she looked from Harry to Draco and then elbowed Draco in the side and seemed to say something. Draco looked shocked, said something back while shaking his head, but Pansy seemed determined; espeically if her smirk was anything to go by. Next thing Harry knew, Pansy was waving him over that enthusiastically while Draco seemed to be having a hushed argument with the side of her head.

Harry cautiously made his way over and finally came to the only occupied stretch of the long Slytherin House table.

"Sit," Pansy said simply.

"Good morning to you too, Pansy," Harry said with an amused grin. "And what do you mean, sit?"

"I mean exactly what I said," she said, rolling her eyes. "Sit down with us."

"Er..."

"It's nine am on a Saturday, Harry. No one is going to complain if you're not at your house table. Besides we're the only Slytherins even _here_ right now. You don't mind, do you Daphne?"

Greengrass's eyes were slightly wide, but she quickly schooled her features and gave Harry a coy little smile. "Not at all, Potter. There's plenty of room. Why don't you sit down over there by Draco."

Draco gaped at Greengrass for a moment before he rolled his eyes skyward and sighed. He looked over at Harry with a sideways grin and motioned with his hand to the space beside him.

Harry managed to chuckle, despite how disoriented he felt at the moment and made his way over to sit down beside Draco. To say that it felt decidedly _odd_ to sit on this side of the hall was an understatement, but he quickly found himself moving beyond the surreal situation and fell into comfortable conversation with the three Slytherins.

A few of the people who slowly trickled into the hall over the next few minutes either openly stared or did double-takes at the sight of Harry sitting there, but none of the Slytherins that came to sit at the table seemed keen on complaining.

"So what are your plans for the day?" Harry asked conversationally to Pansy.

"Daphne and I are going dress shopping and want to make sure we get in early so we've got plenty of time for fittings and browsing," Pansy answered.

"Of course, we've both already got ballgowns," Greengrass added, "but I got mine for attending the Associated Wizard's Solstice gala. This Yule ball just came out of no where, and there's no way I'm wearing the same dress to both events, and I can't wear _last years_ dress, so this is my only real chance at this point."

Pansy hummed and nodded.

"Oh," Harry said simply.

"What about you, Harry? Do you still need to get a set of Dress Robes?"

"No, my grandmother sent me a set she had tailored for me. I know she's got better taste than I'll ever have, and she picked out all the robes I got forced into for the summer parties I got dragged to, so I trust I won't look like a total tool."

"But what if they don't fit," Greengrass said in a legitimately worried tone.

"Well, I don't think I've grown that much since August, which was the last time I had to get fitted for robes," Harry said, twisting up his face in thought, "plus they're supposed to have charms on them to adjust the fit within one size, up or down in any direction."

"Oo, that's pricey," Pansy said, grinning approvingly and Daphne nodded her agreement."

"So what are you two planning?" Daphne asked, grinning at Harry and Draco and not hiding in the least, her assumption that Harry and Draco would be going to Hogsmeade together.

"Gift shopping," Draco said calmly.

"What about gifts for each other?" Pansy asked.

Harry glanced over at Draco before turning back to Pansy, "Well, we're planning to split up for an hour or so after lunch so we can get anything for each other without the other seeing," he admitted with a small smile.

"But surely you haven't waited till the last minute to get each other gifts!" Daphne said in a mock scandalized tone, while also smirking at the same time.

Harry flushed and shrugged, glancing at Draco out of the corner of his eye. "Well, I er... I've got one thing lined up, but I wanted to look for something else to get him too," he mumbled.

Draco's brows raised slightly before he grinned, looking rather pleased. "I need to pick up one of the things I had a shop owner set aside for me, but I thought I might browse for additional ideas as well," he said calmly before taking a very proper sip from his water goblet.

"Awe," Pansy said, grinning. "You two are just so cute."

Draco set his glass down and glared at her. "I am not _cute."_

"Of course not, Drakey," Pansy simpered and Harry almost shuddered from the frigid glare that was coming off of Draco, aimed firmly on the girl across from him. She, however, seemed entirely unaffected by it and simply turned Harry. "So are you still going to the dance with Dunbar?"

Harry blinked. "Er... yeah?" he replied, caught off guard by the sudden question.

"Harry's brows raised into his forehead and he shot a questioning glance over at Draco.

Really? And here I was hoping to see you two on the dance floor," Greengrass said with a pout and a sigh.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Obviously, Pansy has a big mouth," Draco drawled in answer to Harry's silent question.

"Oh phooey, you're no fun," Pansy said, waving her hand at Draco dismissively. "You said yourself that you don't see much point in keeping it hidden much longer."

"That was not permission to go telling everyone you know," Draco said in mild sneer.

"Pshah, don't be so uptight, Drakey. Besides, I bet all of Harry's best friends know."

Draco made a small scoffing sound. "I rather doubt that," he drawled quietly, looking away.

Pansy and Greengrass turned their expectant gazes on Harry who fidgeted under their scrutiny.

"Er... well, I guess... they sort of do."

Draco's head whipped around and he looked at Harry with surprise.

"I didn't exactly _tell_ them all... well I told Hermione, you know, but..." Harry paused and looked over at Draco, chewing on his bottom lip. "Fred and George apparently paid the kitchens a visit Thursday evening and er..."

"They saw us?" Draco whispered, his eyes going wide and the tips of his ears going pink.

"Er, yeah. And apparently the Gryffindor from the Conversational English tutoring lessons also told them about us, er... dancing."

"Oh... I see," Draco said distantly. "Who all have they told?"

"Well, Ron and Ginny know, but Hermione asked the twins to keep it quiet until I said anything otherwise."

Draco's eyes went even wider. "Weasley knows? How did that go over?"

Harry grumbled and shrugged. "I don't really know. I'd sort of stormed out before Ron was even informed. He and I had a bit of a row last night in the common room, and it was after that, that the twins spilled the beans."

"Oh."

They were quiet for a minute, not really knowing what to say exactly.

"I still think you two should go to the dance together," Greengrass put in and Pansy excitedly nodded her agreement.

"But I already asked Fay," Harry argued, grimacing. "I'd feel awful if I suddenly backed out. And while I guess we're going to um... not try so hard to hide... _this_," he said, motioning his hand between he and Draco, "but coming out at the ball? Seems a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Well, it's going to get plastered all over the Prophet no matter when or how you do it, why not do it with a bang?" Pansy said eagerly, smirking widely.

Harry grimaced and looked over at Draco, pleading with his eyes for some help.

Draco sighed. "Honestly, I'm not sure that _I'm_ prepared for something of that magnitude at the moment," Draco admitted calmly. "My parents are still expecting me home for the holiday break after the ball, and I'm not sure if I want my public outing to be so closely grouped with my next face-to-face encounter with my father. I'd rather the 'outing' to occur when there's a sizable chunk of time until I next have to face him to give him some time to cool off."

Pansy sank into her seat, sticking her lip out in a rather obvious pout. "Fine," she sighed.

Twenty minutes later found Harry and the three Slytherins parting ways at the outskirts of Hogsmeade. A small wave of students had made a sudden appearance in the Entrance Hall just as they were finishing up their breakfast. The students in question were those who who were going home _now_, rather than wait around in order to attend the ball, so there had been carriages at the Gates of Hogwarts available to take everyone down to the village, saving Harry and his companions from the walk in the bitter cold.

Greengrass and Pansy left to head directly to the dress boutique while Harry and Draco opted to check out a few different stores in search of presents for friends and family. Harry had a few ideas beforehand, but had also been relying on coming across items of interest for some of his family members, and was greatly relieved when he found his shopping going by rather easily.

He found gifts for all of his cousins, his uncles, aunt, and their spouses, and a few very nice gifts for his grandfather and grandmother. Draco apparently already had the gifts for his mother and father prepared, but he wanted to get little things for a number of his housemates, a few extended family members, and friends.

Still, Harry was carrying a lot more bags by the time they shuffled into the Three Broomsticks, both with frozen red chapped lips and pinkened noses and cheeks.

"_Merlin_, it's cold," Draco said through chattering teeth.

Harry shook his head enthusiastically as he dropped his bags, rubbed his hands together and breathed on them.

Draco looked at the pile of bags, rolled his eyes, and pulled out his wand. A moment later, all but one of the bags had been shrunk down to the size of tea bags and then stuffed inside the one remaining full-sized bag.

He looked at Harry with a single cocked brow and a smirk.

"I don't see you shrinking down _your_ bags," Harry said with a grumble.

"Several of the items I purchased have space expanding charms on them. Items with expanded space don't take well to being shrunk," Draco said dismissively.

Harry stuck out his lower lip in a pout and looked away to grumble.

Draco ended up grabbing Harry's upper arm and dragging him over to one of the tables near the fireplace where they were soon greeted by Madam Rosemerta who took their orders for lunch.

The meal was mostly spent talking about some of the people that they'd purchased gifts for, as well as a few humorous stories about Harry's cousins, and Draco's friends. Finally they'd finished their meals and their bodies had sufficiently thawed to consider going back out to face the awful cold of December in Northern Scotland. Draco's hand found Harry's under the table, and they intertwined their fingers for a moment, sharing a look, and grinning sheepishly at each other. Finally their hands parted and Draco stood up.

"So we meet back here in an hour and a half?"

"Alright," Harry said with a nod as he followed Draco's lead and stood up as well, gathering his one full-sized bag. They walked with each other out of the pub before splitting up and heading their individual ways. Harry dawdled until he was sure that Draco was no longer in sight and then made a beeline for the petstore. He pulled a list out of his pocket and began to gather up all the supplies he could possibly need.

Once he was finally done with that, he wandered back to Dervish and Bangs to browse a bit more to see if anything caught his fancy. After wandering through several more stores for nearly an hour longer, Harry was beginning to panic. Nothing was quite _right_. There were a number of things he'd seen that Draco would like, but they were all things that the blond could easily buy himself – and likely would. They didn't seem _personal_ enough.

It was while wandering through a small children's toy shoppe that he spotted something that sparked an idea. It was the perfect idea, and he left the store empty-handed, but with a big grin on his face.

When Harry met up with Draco again, the other teen didn't appear to be carrying any new bags from earlier, but Harry figured that whatever Draco had gotten, he'd likely shrunk down and placed inside the other bags. Harry had, after all, made sure to shrink down the bags from the pet store, and place them inside his one normal-sized bag, so that there was no risk of Draco catching wind of what he'd gotten him.

"Do you want to head back up to the school now?" Draco asked and Harry conceded with a small shrug and a nod.

The two began to trudge along the path to the school. Harry was grateful when Draco pulled out his wand and cast follow-me warming charms on the pair of them, as well as a mild wind-repelling charm.

"Oh, I'd meant to ask you earlier, but it just keeps slipping my mind," Harry spoke up at one point and Draco looked over at him with expectant curiosity. "You said you're going home for the holiday?"

"That's right. Mother would be distraught if I missed _all_ of the Solstice and New Year celebrations."

Harry hummed and nodded his head. "Do you want to exchange gifts before we leave, then? We could do it the night of the ball – that's Christmas Eve, so it's not exactly all that 'early'."

Draco smiled and nodded. "Sounds like a good plan."

"I figured you might have difficulty explaining to your parents where any gifts from me had come from," Harry said looking away from Draco and into the gray bleakness of the Forbidden Forest.

"I'll still be at Hogwarts on Christmas morning," Draco said with a shrug. "But I still like the idea of exchanging gifts when we can both be there," Draco paused and smirked over at Harry. "I'd like to see your face."

Harry laughed lightly and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I'd like to see your's too. So I guess this means you're taking the train back home on the twenty-sixth? Somehow I would have thought that your parents would have worked it out so you got to floo home earlier, or one of them would come and apparate you or something."

"Well, the Solstice is actually on the 22nd this year, so there really is no difference between me being home on the 24th versus the 26th. I'm missing the actual Solstice either way. We don't explicitly celebrate 'Christmas' because it's a muggle religious holiday. Our traditions have included a family dinner and the exchange of gifts for ages, so it's basically the same sort of things but without the connotation attached to the muggle holiday. Technically the British branches of the Malfoy family have celebrated Modranect for centuries. The Blacks, traditionally, celebrated Yule. Both are winter Solstice celebrations, and basically the same thing aside from some slight differences in what particular regional deities are recognized and paid tribute to. Modranect originates with the Saxons while Yule came from the Germanic pagans."

Harry blinked. "I... yeah, I've never heard of any of that. Well, I've heard of Yule, but I guess I didn't really realize that it was something... different, then... Christmas. Which I guess was sort of ignorant of me. But you know, now that you mention it, it is rather odd that all I hear is 'Christmas this' and 'Christmas that', but it really _is_ a holiday associated with a, um... muggle religion, isn't it?"

"Well, it's not like there aren't any wizarding families that celebrate 'Christmas' although I think that the wizarding families that do, are practicing it in a more 'non-secular' sort of way. But of course there are those that are from muggleborn lines, or half-bloods with a muggle parent that come from a background that practices Christianity more actively. Generally though, it's more about the idea behind some of the traditions; gifts, trees or a burning log, family and food – which were mostly taken from Yule and Koleda and other ancient pagan belief systems, _anyway_ – and not really paying any literal attention to the Christian connotations. There was a big movement towards 'Christmas' over 'Yule' several decades ago during this political push to make the muggleborns feel more welcome and less isolated in our culture. Some say it was also a move from the Magical Minister of the time to to appease the muggle monarchy and the muggle Prime Minister."

"Ah... and your father is probably offended enough by the mere idea of that, to pointedly avoid anything labeled as 'Christmas'."

"Of course," Draco said airily. "Honestly, I have to admit that I am as well. It's stupid to ignore _our_ traditions just to avoid stepping on the toes of some muggleborn and their parents who haven't bothered to investigate our history and beliefs. I suppose the fear was that if the muggleborn's parents heard stories from their children about celebrating Samhain and the Solstice and Beltane, instead of Halloween, Christmas, and Easter, in addition to trying to accept all this 'crazy magic stuff', that it might be the final straw and they'd pull their children out of the schools. Of course, most of the muggles that are religious enough to throw a fit about it wouldn't let their children into the wizarding world in the first place because of their prejudices about us being a bunch of evil sinful satan-worshipers or some such rubbish.

"Anyway, anyone who does get exposure to our world, but is then pulled out, increases the risk of exposure since there are still muggles who know too much about us, only now their magical child isn't being trained, and won't grow to respect our world and use any influence they have to keep their relatives quiet. But honestly? I don't care. Hiding our religious practices just to avoid offending muggle sensibilities is insulting."

"I'd never really thought about it," Harry said, blinking at the blond in some level of surprise. He really _hadn't_ thought about it, but honestly... he really quite agreed with Draco. For the first ten years of his life that he remembered 'Christmas' hadn't meant much of anything at all since he never got to take part in it anyway. And as far as religion was concerned, he had surprisingly little exposure. The Dursley's went to Sunday Service, but only because it was _expected_ and they couldn't look bad in the eyes of the ever-judgmental neighbors. And Harry most certainly hadn't been invited to join them.

Harry, personally, found that he knew next to nothing about 'Christmas' as a specifically religious thing. He supposed he knew the vaguest impression of the stories and such, but not much else. He'd never honestly given the religious aspect a lot of thought. It was just a holiday where family that loved each other got together, exchanged gifts, and ate good food.

Draco looked away for a moment before looking back at Harry and there was a notable hint of worry in his eyes. "It doesn't... bother you, that I feel that way, does it?" he asked hesitantly.

"No!" Harry insisted instantly, shaking his head. "No, actually... actually, I think I agree. It sounds downright offensive, from a certain point of view. I certainly can't blame you, or even your father, for feeling the way you do. Being asked to hide your traditions from the public view for fear or offending a select group of people. I can see why it would really upset some people."

Draco looked relieved and gave Harry a small smile.

"Dray?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't... don't feel like you have to hold your tongue on things like that, okay? I'd rather hear your honest opinion... even if you're afraid it might offend me. I mean, I've realised the last few years, and the last year, especially, that I've been really... _sheltered_ to a lot of things about the wizarding world. I feel like there's so many things that I just never bothered to work out for myself, you know? If you really believe in something, but you're worried that I might have the impression that it's um... pure-blood bigotry or something, but you can explain to me why you feel that way – I'd rather that. I... I want to _understand_ this stuff. I'd rather know how you really feel, and why. I mean, I'd rather learn something new anyway. I'd never even given the Christmas versus Yule thing any thought at all, but now that I've heard a bit I want to know more. So... okay, I'll stop rambling now."

Draco chuckled but beamed at Harry. "Thank you, Harry," Draco said and Harry just blinked at him in confusion. "Somehow that feels like a weight off my shoulders. So... thanks."

Harry ducked his head and shrugged, not sure how to take such a gratitude gracefully.

The two were silent for a while before a comfortable subject change was worked in and they began talking again. They finally made it back up to the castle and parted ways at the entrance hall where Draco disappeared down the stairs towards the dungeons and Harry hesitated a minute before heading towards the kitchens.

After tickling the pear and finding his way inside, Harry looked around for a minute before just calling out for Dobby. The small elf appeared with a _pop_ and squeaked excitedly at Harry, asking him if he needed anything.

"Actually... I was wondering if you knew of a room that could be guaranteed private, but isn't all dirty or filled with broken desks; a room I could make look really nice, if I wanted to. I... well, I sort of want to have a, uhm... a date, I guess. But I need it to be private. You know? Do you know of anywhere in the school that I could do that in?"

Dobby hummed thoughtfully, lolling his head from side to side and causing his large bat-like ears to flop about comically. "Dobby will ask around," Dobby said finally with determination. "Dobby promises to find the perfect spot for Harry Potter Sir!"

Harry smiled thankfully. "Great, Dobby. I really appreciate it."

– –

Sunday arrived and Harry found himself being guided down along with the majority of the remaining Gryffindors, to a large classroom where McGonagall was holding their dancing lessons. The room had been cleared of any and all furniture except for a single table at the head of the room that held what looked like a very odd looking gramophone.

The room quickly filled and all the boys seemed to have gathered to one side while all the girls were on the other. Harry had been avoiding Ron rather successfully up until this point, even though Ron had given him several looks that seemed to indicate he was working up the courage to try and talk to Harry. Harry had been mingling awkwardly on one end of the classroom when it became apparent that Ron was about to make an attempt to come over to him. In an act that Harry was unsure was more cowardice or bravery, he crossed the hall to the girl's side and nodded awkwardly at Fay who looked at him with raised eyebrows for a moment before grinning in amusement and said hello.

Hermione came over and joined them and then Harry suddenly realized that Ginny was with her. He frowned in confusion, wondering what Ginny was even doing there since she was only a third year and they weren't supposed to be able to go to the ball.

"A fourth year asked me as his date," Ginny said, answering his unasked but apparently obvious question.

"Oh," Harry said feeling kind of dumb, especially given the great number of girls just beyond their group that were looking at him and giggling. He glanced back at Fay and gave her a weak sort of smile that came out a bit more as a grimace. "So uh... want to practice together for this thing?"

She chuckled and nodded. "That's probably a good idea if we want to avoid looking like prats with two left feet."

Harry laughed weakly and nodded. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron frowning and fidgeting some, as if he were debating the value in crossing the great void to reach Harry among the girls. Any opportunity to do such a thing was lost as McGonagall called everyone to attention and began to give a brief lecture on the importance of taking this lesson seriously, and not disgracing Gryffindor House with immature behavior at the ball.

She addressed the boys first, and talked about the importance of leading in the traditional waltz and then asked for a volunteer. When basically everyone from the boy's side blanched and shied away, she looked to the other side and her eyes landed on Harry.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry groaned but grudgingly stepped forward.

He had experienced a great many awkward and uncomfortable things in his life, but being told to put his hand on Professor McGonagall's hip, was one of the tops. His rhythm and coordination was awful for the first minute while he battled his nerves, but he quickly focused his mind on what Draco had taught him the prior Thursday, and his performance improved. Of course, he never got even remotely as _close_ to McGonagall as he did with Draco, nor did his movements ever become as fluid or relaxed as it had with the blond Slytherin, but after a brief demonstration, McGonagall gave him a very approving look and thanked him before addressing the rest of the room for another brief speech.

Harry was immensely relieved when he was released back into the crowd, and Fay gave him a slightly surprised but approving grin.

"And here I was worried for the safety of my toes. You're not bad at all, Potter. I thought you said you couldn't dance."

Harry ducked his head and gave her an embarrassed grin and a shrug. "I had someone give me some lessons earlier in the week."

The rest of the dance lessons went smoothly, and Harry spent the time trying to get more comfortable with the girl he'd asked to the dance without having really known her at all. Fay, he discovered, was very easy to talk to. She was also easier to dance with than McGonagall, although, obviously not nearly as enjoyable as dancing with Draco.

"So, tell me Harry, _honestly,"_ Fay said in a quiet voice a while into the group dance lesson when no one else seemed to be paying them any attention, "what does your boyfriend think about you and I going to the dance together?"

Harry spluttered in surprise at the rather sudden question. "My w-what?"

Fay raised her eyebrows. "I heard you... well..."

"No.. no, erm... well, you're right. Did you hear _who..?_"

Fay hesitated and glanced around cautiously to check for any eavesdroppers before leaning in closer.

"Draco Malfoy," she whispered before pulling back and looking at him with curious expectancy.

Harry let out a small, almost panicked laugh before sighing and nodding. "He doesn't really want it going public before the holiday though because he doesn't know how his father will handle it."

"Yeah... I can imagine that being a... sensitive thing. I mean, he's a _Malfoy_. And his _father..._ well..."

"Yeah. I know," Harry said with a grimace.

"But really? You're really with _Malfoy?"_ she ended in an excited whisper.

Harry grinned despite himself and nodded.

"Wow. I'm only into girls and even _I_ know that Malfoy is a _very_ attractive bloke. Of course, you are too, so I guess you're suited for each other."

Harry shook his head, adamantly. "Oh no, I don't even compare to him! He's just... he's..." Harry trailed off, as if lost for words.

Fay grinned widely and giggled.

"Oh, you're just too cute. So you never answered my question. What does he think about you and me going to the dance as a couple."

"Well, he's going as 'just friends' with Pansy – er, Pansy Parkinson."

"Right."

"And they were actually _there_ when Hermione told me I should er... ask you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"So it doesn't bother Malfoy at all?"

"Er, well if it does, he certainly hasn't said anything about it," Harry said, frowning. "But he knows that you're uhm –"

"He knows I'm a lesbian."

"Yeah."

"So he knows I'm not a threat."

Harry chuckled weakly and shrugged slightly, while maintaining his hands on her shoulder and hips and still dancing.

"And you're fine with him going with Parkinson?"

"Oh yeah. Pansy's been his friend since they were in diapers. She was actually the one who first told me that Dray's ga–" Harry cut himself off and glanced around nervously, checking for anyone near by, but found no one else in earshot who appeared to be paying attention.

"We can talk about something else if this is making you nervous," Fay offered with a soft smile.

"Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea," Harry said with a nervous chuckle.

"How about I tell you about the first time I kissed another girl," Fay offered with a smirk. Harry blanched for a moment before laughing amiably and giving another one-shouldered shrug."

– –

AN: Okay! I'm sorry all but** there won't be another update for a while.** I'm going out of town tomorrow and will be out of town for nearly three whole weeks visiting relatives in another state. I really doubt that I'm going to have any quality time to write during the entire trip.

We're driving, because my husband has an airplane phobia, and I've got two kids – a 2yr old and a 5yr old. It's going to be a very stressful and exhausting trip. My husband also says that I tend to be 'anti-social' when I write, so I figure they'd take it as sort of rude or something, if I hid myself away on a couch with my laptop too often, while staying in my in-laws house. SO! Sorry, but there won't be another update for a while.

In other news, the game I've been working on for the last two years just got released in Japan! Wooo. It's called** Uncharted: Golden Abyss**. I did all of the character rigging, and set up the rigs for the facial animation. It'll be out in America in February, and we're just about to hit our gold master date for the American and European SKUs. So - yay! No more crunch.


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